and a choir atop the plinth
leaks a song of sweet nepenthe
near the fountain of absinthe
where the ladies fill their cups
and flow down to the lawns
where the golems of green corn
hover silently, the icon's sleep
but the kernals are synthetic eggs
and the ladies compare their legs
to the muscular trees
which gamble in threes
hunched around a meandering pool
where Martial Canterel
is rowing in a shell
with two tiny nude homunculi venuses
perched on his shoulders
as if they were glued
and they are listening
and across the pool
is a kind of ruin
whose porous columns
are infested with intelligent
centipedes
who are the disarticulated armor
of Martial Canterel
who approaches in his shell
advancing to his squire the ruin
to become the knight of science
and the ladies are disrobing
to play cards on the lawns
and all of them wear
little waist belts
of blue faience teeth
and there are raccoons
eating melon
and doves in the trees
and some of the ladies
wearing pantyhose up to their knees
and some take chloroform
and languish
and Martial is humming
to the bright empty air
and he does not care
that his hair is lighter than air
and floats strangely
like a galaxy
like the head of Danton
who has grown a beard
of squirming Republican soldiers
with tiny red frogs poking from their mouths
and Danton's head is floating
above the pool where it is cool
and the view of the ladies
is so pleasing
and I do not remember
why
nor could I ever care
for the choir atop the plinth
leaks a song of sweet nepenthe
near the fountain of absinthe
where the ladies fill their cups
where the emerald golems
slumber
under skins of squirming
jelly eggs
each filled
with tiny lady legs
which scissor
in the goo
*image by Ridley Howard
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