Thursday, January 5, 2017

dinsdale's lament



o
bright pink coral judge wig
will you
in this god's cave
stick out your high fork tongue to smell
the o
which as an o
is
an o
an o which will go round the square
in a slithering
cutting air
o
to smell with pink coral hair
the gavel which has laid
with the bog people
who once tied hero-stick-asclepios
to the backs of rooster
sitting atop saddles
of sweet myrtle

a great blue tiled O fountain
whose whole is not a guillotine
but a gill of dreams

and one in which
read roosters
are drawn and quartered
by eccentric kite mobiles
so

onward
to o

o as o
and
oh-ah-zoe

great filbert
is a veiny thing


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