Tuesday, September 3, 2013

The Great Ensnarement By Circe's Indoor Luxuries





Avid McGusto upon us
up on Mount Neuss
and some biopharma stocks
you should be buying:

stockade in winter, you are trapped,
but the ducks, and the passenger pigeon
skirt the coastline, the scarring, lulling,
and making mock do roll out the map
upon the jerkin

his shirt it was by spiders spun
with doublet wove of thistle down,
stockade in winter, you are trapped,
the perfect, crisp, white, air, wills your
breathing

up on Mount Neuss, the chaor'd obscuro,
like burnt branches never hurtling, still
as the cuckoo, its soft feather grey brain
twinned as calves and covered with stockings
of apple rind

stockade in winter, you are trapped, but
with eyelash pluck'd from your mother's eye,
stockalf

tending down to shoes made of mouse skin,
and Biopharma Miller has swallowed Tom Thumb,
Into the Woods with Sondheim 1988

and once again
stockade in winter, you are trapped,
but the ducks, outer becoming inner,
inner outer, in a router:

the sleep of treason educes masters,
grig grog grag chew chao koo,
Avid McGusto, ignarring awl a twonce