Saturday, December 1, 2012

Minstrels Hide Upon the Garden, But Vowel Who Sing



the virago said
to the cadeberiz
there are no virgins
here sir
but the cadeberiz
stood fast
gazing on the sun's distaff
all eternal spinning
to blindnesses wed
the brightest of all
the maiden heads
and he said

what young are laid in gems
but the hissing of mules over eery rum
these cones like minutia exert sere eros
it is the property of a woman
to use scoldynge

and the minstrels then peered out all around in the garden
bearded women and hairless men and ghosts making chains
of paper dance like flames and all the while
Bar-Thalamuse Spranger could be seen
as a molten golden foetus moving inside
the golden capped acorn whose bell
of clear glass looked amber holding mead
and beads of honey fell from its tip
like a nipple to drip and the minstrels
were timing the whole hibernation in pitch
the heels of Achilles replaced with gyroscopic spindles

farrago, O
snow sculptures
of 1511 Brussels