Friday, September 27, 2013

Menander, Fragment 761.

"Sandalbird, Sandalbird," before I slept you chanted.


At first I could not accept;* here now the cat*
has brought the memory,* syllables as fresh; /
cloaked in other sounds* in stead /, as every sound
and, image is* wandering /the palacial\ irony of the pallette
eternal# as dread, and though 'nearly asleep
the name( awoke


The afternoon was mended,
and in my old gorgon's sack,
a new toy:


peri-pawed and luscious:
collision, combination,
a phantom of Democritean
terminology, algebra
born in Abdera,
of the philosophers,
and whose airs were said to bring

The two French sackings of Zaragoza,
para, y, Goya, painting an ox-head
for the River Po, Hannibal staring down
from the Alps, but Goya only mentioned
in Le Mercure de France, and no one
ever equal to the profane illumination.

How golden, then, is this statue
of Saturn devouring its Bellmeritical
la poupée?

The cudgel fight
is a word, then, for the sack
peripalaxis; a palatial light:

Hannibal with the head of an ox,
the head of Goya; Gannibal, Cannibal,
Satur-Sutra-Sura-Any-Baal, with the head
of a lantern with fifty wings of scimitars;
San Seraphim w/ a Napoleontic goiter
whistling piously from the neck, &

Chelm and Abdera holding hands
in the moonlight:
The King of Sardinia's botanical garden
still stands.