Sunday, December 21, 2008

Creamed Corn Keats Battles Hodad Yeats in Bermuda Sigils

Throw me upon thy Tripod, till the flood
Of stifling members ebbs from my full breast-
enhancements, my nipple-boners gush such
creamy mush...

with unavailing outcries a creamed corn saw
her first descended call, and underneath its colon's
elder-shadow, his hour to shoot-up keat's butter, yeats
awhile in tiara, uprooted any wild heart among nature
with creaming peers: meanwhile love kept unavailing
palm hearts in mystical doodads or outcries alone~

"they is my"
"above all commonness"
"bugs thickly yeatsing hodads" "up with bermudas"
or "orchids-likes-balls"
upon the throne her beauty into my
overweening cream of beauty's
faint chunder, and the cloudy kings
of all things happy with corn.

i am contented, the streets are hanging
paper-flowers from my pleasure's
weird battle gloppy with slope-head corn-
and new post to post, this, because its
fairest dyes, and bees, that pigeons of the old~
cloudy quivering snatch-bong shap'd
and tinted her bitterness with yellow
rivalry's hominy, a garb of fetish ideas~

that empty cassandra in the skies,
that high olympus as utter'd by slavish thighs
still hangs only burning with pains, butter they quietly wanders
laughing and eating her garden googles
bee corn hum in the great arch above
who but awaits my heart-fork's fire and cob and
and crying about pigeons and warm veins
plaqued with placketts rackets ricketts of mirth

i lime-tree flowers; and put away
therefore i know that i have heard the cream
of corny universes fill'd her eyes
and for more adornment, her dearly dongy
with wig's wings, with such a richness that the fart
i have forgot when from the heavens i a full thousand years
did motor in bermuda shorts with floppy dog-like ears
she seven woods cloth down to the knees or seven ironies
in this andrew's weave of holes make their life's sad end;
love pour'd like unicorn cream upon the brass monkey's
cold bald balls each alike with the visage of Vincent Price's Right!


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