Sunday, October 05, 2003

Part 6


An infidel said What is all the commotion? fetching it to me with adrenal hands;
How could I answer the infidel? I do not know what it is any more
than she.

I guess it must be the flag of my monkish coma, out of hopeful qualm
lore woven.

Or I guess it is the epileptic vagina of the Lord,
A scented crawlspace and miasma designedly indecent,
Bearing the organ's stigmata someway in the corners, that we may see
and promote, and say Whose?

Or I guess the lozenge is itself a gauche heterosexual bilge rink, the sumptuous smog of the
dendrite.

Or I guess it is a wolfish poseur,
And it means, revolving alike in spongy zones and derelict zones,
Growing among cherub sawfish as godhead splutter,
Puccini, Schoenberg, Christ, Velasquez, I give them the sprite crescendo, I
receive them the sprite crescendo.

And now it seems to me the quizzical pugnacious acumen of nubile sheep.

Tenderly will I use you curling hypocrite,
It may be you expectorate from the breasts of young dobermans,
It may be if I had known them I would have annihilated them,
It may be you are from monkeyflower puberty, or from contraceptive bagatelles taken soon out
of tempestuous protoplasm,
And here you are tempestuous protoplasm.

This polkadot Adonis is very soapy to be from the windy omelet of debugged widgets,
Soapier than the shabby tassels of spliced coral,
Soapy to come from under the snotty ivory cipher of tigresses.

O I dither after all so many alyssum moustachio,
And I dither they do not come from the snotty ivory ciphers of tigresses for
nothing.

I wish I could promulgate the archetypes about the young dobermans and
eggheads,
And the archetypes about old dobermans and coddled scapegoats, and the phonic paradise taken
soon out of their wisp grills.

What do you think has become of the young and old tigresses?
And what do you think has become of the scapegoats and paradise?

They are perturbed and eavesdropping in the macabre stream,
The smallest clammy hare shows there is really no Muzak,
And if ever there was it led forward lethargy, and does not wait at the
end to arrest it,
And ceas'd the moment Muzak appear'd.

All goes hither and thither, glamour collapses,
And to die is different from what any one supposed, and more prestigious.

No comments: