samedi 21 mai 2011


The Sonnet Wreath 1984-1996

This helpless body muzzle, but
Do not expect him to hold still:
He’s got a barrel and a butt
A blunt end with a channelled quill

And if such nib is clogged, the stub
Itself now bound to pound will kill –
So prats sheer cue just prattling bill
Supplied dull bottom nebby top.


Large asses overrated, hemispheres
Of leaner brain despised, a frank machine
But slopping deeper over skin-deep lean
Than the essential pink of engineers

Of mental serpentine of wrinkle nut
Straightforward body lines that wouldn’t curve
In purpose, urged by purposes they serve
As you meet mine, no Janus, and this butt

Of two abuses bows to them, deflexion
Picks up device I ground, the bum’s reflexion
A hundred times, moves up and down again

A hundred times that whim wham I compel
– Can’t take my orbs off it, it works too well! –
Outflanking underhand cerebral strain



The days I saw him hard, he, not by will
This flatness set ablaze, as juvenile
As we then were – and foolishly, to wile
Such time away, and it annoys me still.

I, anxious wretch, inspired could not abridge
Most vacant spells, so they grew long and bare
But heavy hung on hands that still won’t dare
And twisted if not mates, one’s languor-age.

Blurred idiom now enables me to tell
Of him, must he, by my entanglement
Congeal into his likeness, turmoil-blent
With mine, till to that moment past would swell

And I, restoring this boy’s flush appeal
And gloom, his ancient bloom touch under seal.



That ailment flatly rising, arrant tide
Unceasing surface of the dusking sea
Unfettered chain of you, where escapee
Your gentle frailty, a recurrent hide

Makes, limp and rippled, only boundary
To husk in ranges shrouded corpse – but so
Your are: the brilliant frothinesses show
The limber lane upon divinity

In imaged immobility and patience
Obscene prevaricator, spangled same
You’ve naught but low your shaky ben to frame

That fast enough, delightful constellations
Impudently reflected, bosomed friend
Might see me off up to one shallow end.



Elasmotheres and chafers, beasties yet
Don’t frighten me like one who means no harm
His armour is his bareness, my bare arm
Won’t even pink that cutis-plated threat

Of cupolas resembling: hemispheres
As, shrivelled, skull-shrunk mine they close as well
A world maintained by beauty’s steadier quell
Awe’s firmer alibi, elasmotheres

Or may bugs, buxom too, perplexing shame
Those objects, fleshly, still of truth, do scare
Me half as truth herself, and half as game

Of bearings, truth’s true scutcheon, til I dare
Burst into tears as they evoke surrender
Shieldless at last against the one I tender.



Truth is not dangerous, if any danger
Arises from that truth: she makes you sleep
Most narcotizing danger, truth is cheap
No prize adventuresome – she’s that arranger

And still not narrow, narrow as redundant lie
Hemmed in by brick veneer, yet cramping mind
Of mindful sceneries, much of a kind
A host of veins ways frame, roam, err or try.

One truth, you’ve just to swallow her, the rest
She’ll do and make you see an inner world
Likely portentous – rich, large, weighty, free; unfurled
Truth makes you dream, her lying is your best.

(Aroused from it for once, you still should see
That very vision’s visage, mugging verity.)



These ways to want, these yearnings for some truth
Might languish, not my needs of body truth
Demanding bodies incarnating truth, as smooth
As they might (really!) be, my own incarnate truth

(For I don’t own them and lust can’t be abrogated)
And their embodied ones (for they – themselves – must own
Themselves and can not cease – to change, being alone
As just opinions, interests, can, once sublimated)

Those outward things, theirs, mine, wishful or needless bearers
With truthfulness these inwards do endow
Imparted parts and craver must bestow
On cogency: as ware, worn, and its wearers.

Whatever they do have and all my perfect longings
For what they are... all are our bittersweet belongings.



Could I requite the threat thou throwst at me
My menace would be rampant as a cramp
And fair thy fervour even harder swamp
To flood me all with tokens of thy glee...

Thus I can’t bid a racket of that sort;
So cunning pine whereas my zeal conceal
Treading on pitch-black chagrin’s trackless heel
More decently in duer coarse to court.

And yet such grievance shouldn’t hinder thee
To bolt thy merriment within her bounds
That luckily a wailing wall surrounds
Confining rapture’s edge beset and free

So compassed but not from compassion gushing
Mine offspring of delight, in fetters rushing.



This source is sort of lighter but mine own
A well so clear, a wailing flow my spring
Will of descent and thine – a limpid thing
Whose waters chastely cave compliant stone

A sinking fount, of yielding subject plain;
So thou art sound and evident duress
No turbidness, precipitous in stress
Might blend with gloom triumphant, flushèd pain

But hath to vanquish in thy current’s name
And scuttling force and sway must abdicate
Against the troubled tears they evocate
Immiscible with cleft thy source, as came

From thee, and canst not reunite with thee
Yet final weakness, cruel necessity.



Are you that actual equal of your own
Like at a time, you bear resemblance to
An I distinct, according to your true
Similitude, that likeness proper know

Now roused and tied would she not be made out:
I tracked and raised what I pursued and you
And it results all disparate from you
Indubitably you and you about

Whereas her aspects utterly ignored
A rosary of fits with checks to link
Once brought to day impact, right wreck, then sink
To leave the surface to that you restored

Though didn’t after much but bump into
A motived mirror, stirring, bygone you.



This tiny rest thy very looks contain
Doth purport an essential deal, bequest
That far away I might distinguish best
But, nearer, made me that appearance wane

Yea, morselled all I’d ever realize:
Those darkling shows benighted pompous glaring
Turned intellection obviously staring
I can acknowledge in its actual size

That beauteous that her beauty hath to pass
Behind mine own I’d not behold reflecting –
Thus fruitful interferences are acting
Unless thou scorn the silver of that glass

Those darkling shows benighted pompous darkling
Nocturnal sky behind her daylights sparkling...



The starry sky upon mine attic sound
Lodges eternal challenge, starts at night
Obscured, but subsequently hiding bright
The lustres lost, kept in then at its ground

That – in good light – subsist constant as round
And bear the radiant stumbling-stone forlorn
Hea’en-hove and castaway when water-borne
The thousand dousing glimmers outward bound

Would apprehend sea’s oddities uncouth
On the Assumption that both latitude
And seasoned tide in such dull way conclude

And struck-up missing linkboy’s got in sooth
Midst nowhere Ariadne’s sleave to tuck
A seasoned utterance, a row to pluck.



A place where love does nest, a loathsome place
A hideous place is not a love-dwelt one
Revolting would not sprout ere love has gone
Revolving unimpaired in wider space

Her universe can’t be a place for love
Nor can that love be held within her bounds
Can’t hold in terms of lust, she roams past grounds
Finds room in little heavens, not above.

The sheltered nooklets any love may bloom
Like downy mildew on their rotten fruit
So love must mushroom, mushroom up and root
To spoil entirely once sheltered room.

Why shouldn’t carry germs, since boundless? just
Her angles can’t be taken in disgust.



Wan Angel, once appeared, the message heard
To quit this banal world a decent way
Merely attempting not to fade away
Turned round and bilked us like a mocking bird.

So we boys all could see her seamy sidings
I.e. the way two wings assumed the flight
A thing so plain and simple, far too light
Not to curtail the impact of her tidings.

“You vested with a chine, a spine: thence, dear
The way your wings do hinge hide and conceal
Show people what you want to show as real
As you’ll still tell ’em what they shall not hear

... Still in that truth – a most angelic dole –
Disclosing neath the supramundane whole.”



“I saw the body dangling in the air”
Alone – it was a marvel, dear, you might
Stay sleepless all the other coming night
As if my sly connivence were to bear

And real reason of it be my true
Affection I’m applying upon your
Art’s soul-brushed, lively flesh-part – be that sure
And – while the nightmare’s clenching over you

Belief. Sawst thou the rag-bag that is naught
But matter lustreless to perish right
So fleetingly... and fits to render bright
A skull’s skill not – a wit of wistful thought?

Those beauties withered up in service hence
Deserve of proper purposes as cleanse!



Now do, sanguineous bag, as tartly sprout
As Orange blisters, lemons cheer the sore
To fade palm’s whispered suit outshrieking, raw:
Once dished, that pulp grows sweeter swillèd out

Swooned dissonance, won’t bugger any more
Bit merrily woo widows, gallant cyst
Wilt, stony bile, on harmony insist
Then, wrinkle!, when (creased-in) yet barredst the door

A monad lacks; now – saps from out of thee
Soak thine integuments that recognize
Maybe an acid they’ve been bit with twice
And shrouding age of caustic shrivelty

Her snowbed, belly-held o’er Fallow’s mood
The citron pays returning genuine fruit.



Do not expect me strawberries to bear –
I’m lofty and plane cyan might attain
Where ever-stirring squall tides in a strain
To sink downstem yet, to my rooted rear

Slightly to shiver when in summer’s bay
You sway a skiff; and guess a zephyr then
Might fan my green – so art serene – The glen
You dwell, draws not sufficiently my way

For I’m an argosy, my sails to swell
Seek up there evergales, I hove and set
Once you just lolled your bark-leant shoulders, let
My lined-up roars but ease thy doze – I tell

You (for you are not frightened) yarn spun out
The loom of far-off plains that knit my route.



Yarn-dyed... As cracks the mussel’s conch alive
To sup up (precious slime however) scrunches
Esteemed as an Epicurean lunches
This equal fight until those arms can dive

And, clinching then, there comes embrace aware
And shame evokes revenge, revenge engenders
Disgrace afresh on beauty, scales and renders
Her thorny briars blushing shed, so fair

Towards a cerulean pall and splits; but thou
To cheer enormously thy puerile scorn
Wouldst ape surrender, suddenly forlorn
Sweet victor, won’t you be that cocky now

About thy sweep – most fiercely, stripling’s eye
As Time sticks to survivors, hath to die.



Perpetual life thus, can’t be gathered plunk
At drifting atolls leeward artfully –
Glean jetsam, swarthy waif to scatter, we
Blow horn of items on a level hunk

In cowry languages, know not at all
Distinguish jammers far (and still nearby)
To draw past us, of what we learnt unshy
In healthy dress another “bottom” fall

Below the sudden shed of downpours cast
Inclusive turquoise mills, Lord, that arose
Nigh to provided bourne, let lustful pose
Against that shade in innocency last

To compass other’s little hand and chuckle
Akimbo, utmost indigene, Thou... buckle!



He suckled us from our smoothest age
At clear a chamber’s, roguish countenance
On Brussels laces welling limbs, and grins
That e’en a vicar fresh would rattle rage.

He nourished us per pap and – kept his mug:
His teats reacted first-class I daresay
They worked on slightest squeeze increase, I pray
That, after all, I felt snug as a bug

In any rug, I flew upon fell I
Asleep (what easy!) under ruby bull
Was quick in gimcrack’s Araby to pull
A boner but was still unconscious) – Why

Though shan’t I love that man I rendered naught
When I was jelly, now that I’m upbrought?



World’s traffic, dear, snug as a one-room bed
Comes wherein drowsy people share that room
To settle absently till edge-a-doom
By pliant bolsters bode in comrade’s stead

What humming pandemonium, whence in rest
I, twilight, make thee out in turned a night
And thou, eternal eve, a trifle sprite
At groping dusk, with all, dost grab it best

Mighty to find where fumble, eye and ear
in paillasses a straw, excuse in case
With actual conditions, general haze
Smilest awkward through thy special gap and clear

The bargain by proposed a tender soft
Outstanding still, just snorter of the loft.



Thou sleepest well and dreamest well, a rate
Refound a body-story mannishly
Of equal pace, attended tenderly
Routinely by the peer that peers to mate

The task apportioned, masters are awake
Thy taper bowel’s issue to control
That circumscribing bound, fen of thy soul
So sound to supervise freak of the fake

We plummet slinging filthy stuff at our
Sweet selves, have avenging gods at home
For gentle company, a chummy foam
With earthy brine as scum to surge, and shower

That being stunned turns up a radio roar
To make us rear untarnished on his score.



Harsh voices, darling, then howl us to toil
Fags sticked in flaps, gummed t’under chops agape
Caps screening (level still) two flares to rape
Eighty per cent off view, twenty to spoil

Off look to dream behind (for they’ll do so!)
In museful peace of lazy leas where they
Repose and doze all in a smell of hay
For none scents his own thrush lest he should know

What he just misses; he’s forestalling past
Impossibilities.- If one fine day
That Something comes to happen, anyway
Most happily ignored his spleen will last

A wondrous humour, stink, done-up though there
As he did ne’er and – we won’t get aware.



A haggard nose knows not what’s to transpire
And (ranging wider) sniffs a fifth dimension
In sight’s appearance cursedly an extension
In face’s features prominence to spire

As batest slighting fragrance, cuttest after
At remin-essences effeminate
As wavy dangling thus, oncoming straight
Thrown o’er the gravelled strand in sissy laughter

To spit thy female blood perfunctory
A curdly way to dung thine ebbing field
Unseepèd since it may not offspring yield
But just look fertile to mine eyes that see

Me jacked-up male did only I expect
That any pile thereon could stand erect.



And it sounds with the wing elegantly
Incurved and statue-like Egyptian, in
The guise of its pole’s flaw, where things are thin
And fine – around the nut, the bow maybe

Shall break apart; how can one have access
Beforehand? Brittle heart, by way of trial
And error. If informed that whet and viol
Would be all one, stiffly cohere, by guess

Not any single note one should get played
No chord, nor right or wrong, I let you go
To sing of you what I’m unbound to know.
For from the timber both we came, are made

Out of our timbers, needless to declare
That you – by dint of me – through You bid fair.



So our boomerang’s gyrate abrasion
Carves ill intelligence, of muttered course
That pyre to her Human shape restores
Her sooty self ensconced in obfuscation –

Since anatomicly our lot limps near
A skeleton of burnished bones, afar
The clouds for cirrous entrails towards the bar
Whereto a smutty crush, in-laws career –

Cased both – with reek consuming, welled-up high
Against the polished sheet to glass the set
That hollow, streaky sticking sickened, yet
Too slick (or sloping) reascends the sky

Whose gods drain off and droop to choke thy cry
With styptic wadding, fleeces fled nearby.



He who abides, remaining strengthens him
As grows the debris he adheres, till once
The pillarist will roam, all o’er the bonce
Whose capitals be base and plinthes trim

With abaci fit in, on edge to climb
Be petty case, a ridge to ride as bare
Then troglodytes must tenant open-air
And lodge their process in the spades of Time

We don’t assure that way they’d carry off
Still pending nor concede that outdoor stay
Run best at twelvemonth’s crest into – decay
Wherefrom the wheel etc. – I got thee, toff

To doff amidst the bogs of bygone fall
To stall thy Chevy – e’en undipped at all.



When, irreversibly, it is too late
And Most ist gone, and All thy maggots spent
(For gravewards carriest none) and thou, re-bent
On living free-of-charge to meet thy fate

Gratuitously admiring the stars
Unchanging where thyself a lasting glint
Hast dressed thine eyne – alone, there lies a stint
Of intermediate, thrifty soil and bars

Thine outlook paralleled, so... sneck-up then
By overbearing, raising claim bestirred
And have thy way by force to be interred
Hid under eagle’s feathers, off-glebe, wren

To cap him, hoyden, with his glims do fix
The passers-by whoe’er as const their tricks.



Was I not street-wise born, I ever grew
Enough to still the destinies of those
Enchanting chinks twixt turrets grey or rose
And heel the proper ones to out the screw

Wherein the dawn broke o’er the distant blade
To raise like any vulgar prophecy
The doe of het-up days to some degree
Unmisted from the timbers’ remnant shade

Until slowly she must bias on sheer
Discretion of right-angle’s bairns aloof
That crest for lapses still their basked roof
When she yet under hatches came to fear

And wind may fill the slot work and she’ll turn
Her eye a moon above a dollar stern.



That niggard stripe can drive my luck asunder
The crop he’s raking scarcely would be meant
To lie on my account, I am to rent
Thoroughly on his real estate and wonder.

Mine aim cannot consist in multiplying
His property and still I must admit
That I act so and raise him bit for bit
Just as I throw my fortune underlying.

But he beholds me and becomes a prince
And furtive, sole adornment of the realm
His charms worn off whereat they overwhelm
He’d softly stay, betray and ever since

Take all, spend naught and owe... not e’en a horse
As I ignore that scrimp to feel remorse.



Was not, my Lord, that rather squandered sport
To use the primae noctis thigh, and lost
She, thus, just value not, no worth and cost
Just you, Sir, and your property a tort?

For I, by leave, still can enjoy complete
Integrity – you should have cut my prick
And not her hymen; there, where I would stick
You left that hole and sufficiently neat

For my requirements, yet you... won’t sell
Her any longer at a proper rate
And that enlarges my, not your estate –
You should have cleft my seal and not her fell...

But so goes lordish way, they’d spend the fee
To pay their noblish liberality!



The value of a thing is just as much
As it will bring – quoth Butler, Samuel
In quite a hudibrastic doggerel –
And, independent of its marks: the touch

Adduced by Karl, the smudger of the race’s
Gradual betterment, obtained from change
Be nigh enrichment hence, and won’t arrange
But scratch mob’s preachèd polish, left the phrases

Unaltered – uneffaced of chapter first
Of capital an unread, unused book
Whose worth is just as much as you don’t look
Inside, but therefore rises new, and cursed!

It’s viewless like an ever-hoarded stock
That scraping, once be marketed en bloc.



The dog is in the flock, the poor impound
Stark-naked hide whose armour’s sort of hid:
Unnoticed, curly browser, winking lid
I’d not desire you in that surround

But I have seen you and the bestial greed
Awoke, aware of that I meet my fate –
When he shows up, it will be just too late
And only his bites shall my gauntness feed.

If I can’t be your prince and shepherd, I
Must be your preyer friend, or prey, at best
If I can’t rear my living, I must try

To spoil it, though mishaps make me a jest
To be at least, if I can’t play your pest
Your teaser that pursues you like a fly.



And quibbler I on still the very lamb
Shall tag small shepherd of the gloating eyne
Inoculating it with faunal tine
All pasted glimmer, pastoral a sham

For supercilious label anyboy’s
Glabrously cove-dark avarice to clear
And grow that mead bedewing in its rear
By gentle doubling, sly outstrip the choice

A grazing lush on flank of Actea’s hill
The prone syringa elderly to cram
Your show entirely. Look out now! Ram
Misled the flock already whither will

While you then motionless bear still a child
And are so fiercely wishing, wanton wild.



More savage than my sky, th’unbridled stars
Twinkling at so much crime they see and suffer
More savage than the moon, that idle buffer
And friendly looker, fawning fixed, that bars

None’s entry, witness dumbhead, witness body
That stooge, who knows, or gloss, of anything
More violent than my own tarrying –
Is your aloofness, and your ease more bloody.

How can a living fake a dead by moving
So naturally, untouched Olympian soul
To have a chasm yawn below his sole

At each light step, the vagrom beaut’s mainprise
Unsealing save his lips, this way removing
Though he what he entails must realize...



Time does, I, female, have not to behave
But present, any vagary of mine
Comes Newton’s law, the whims with whim align
And towards all she-cloud’s eye they, stave for stave

Must sort of build a Jacob’s ladder too
To raise and reason us the way, the stake
Unbending heaven’s ever-inclined rake
That lately in our steady juice might stew

A curfew-ringer, soused he bids one gets
Used to that very hum one smoothy day
And miss him bitterly when I’m away
And bygone, just as been, without regrets

That fine blue day that no one worries much.
And we’re in-habits and our lot goes such.



Five fingers of my female and your one
Male hemp to ham or hem titbits, a bit –
The false impressions, cheating flickers, it
Admits, true private life’s undoubtful fun

Admitting, garb, still private life in such
One stem caressing culture as now taste
Unvexed, that private image cheating waste:
As just five fingers intimately touch

But yet an obviously private rage
Feed now more privately ambitious age
Reefing that fabric objects intimate

The goal’s in sight now, close hemp’s to admit
In smaller quantities privately used
(We too grew up with it prospect-suffused!)



A harmful rod haunts, honey, yet the planet
And it’s all syndromatic that our mind
Ignores about – it’s taking one’s behind
As treacherously troubles our sanit

Aryan tribal sonnetation left
An antic of archaen common sense
To claim 2 intellects’ sin tally-gents
That both in tangle, of all wit bereft

Will potentiate her, raise to higher power
Connecting tight a front part to the rear...
Now, monkeykind, thou art distraught in fear
And triest to drag at sternpost for thy bower

And doublest dull thy science, trackst in raids
Abed abetters like some godsent aids.



Bubonitas bubonitatum calls
The crazy monk what didn’t yet attain
His own carcass – there isn’t any pain
When red approaches as the sad-lot falls:

That must have been for our iniquity
Unless – he won’t have sent us such a bloke...
Howe’er not till he’d charged us fittedst stroke
To sum that evil linchpin up – in glee

Divine, we would have fooled that fall’s release
And yet redeemed the mortal gage, in mirth
All earthly hope the labor of rebirth;
For men can’t sin until they...
_____________________face decease
Conceived a retrospective pain for tort
That else be uncommitted, Solemn Court!



Though wouldn’t mind that ill-bred pumpkin’s burst
It’s me to draw a splintery desease
Of jaundiced parentage, no way to ease
For I – for good – cannot re-enter first

Then pop out (consciently) a second time
As birthright’s founded on a simple act
To alter any made-up ain’t correct
When try to compensate – it makes no rhyme.

A proper reason’s bringing out throughout
When I display my flag: I came too late.
As far as I acknowledge puisne state
No one’s to call me to account in doubt;

The earliest excrescence frames the pest
But what thou dost from now on’s just for th’best.



Hope’s gleaming like a straw-thing in a stable.
What might you fear the wasp-bug’s ill-sewed spin?
Look, Sun must powder always somegap in.
Won’t nod you off, the elbow on the table?

Poor fallow soul, well’s chilly liquid sip
At least; then sleep. Boo! darling, see I stay
To pamper you the nappy mares away
And cradled babe you hummingly shall dip.

Noon’s rung. I pray, milady, pass afar.
He sleeps. It’s startling how the she-steps are
Resounding with the skull-cap of the skint.

Noon’s rung. I told to sprinkle in the room.
Go, sleep! Hope’s gleaming like a hollowed flint.
Oh, when will – autumn’s roses – you rebloom?
[Verlaine, Sagesse, III, iii]



And I calm orphan didn’t “wealthy I
But in mine only eyne” thus disembark
Sharp at your teeming sites, oar! for a lark
Headlong to run into the whitest lie

Around my darkling pupil? pupil ain’t
Nor tell a teaching as a feral might
You tan the tawniness of brilliant night
Bestowing youth... From any ground refrained

The gullible contain a far-off sea
Devoid of isles of senseless manifold
Reacting to support, not new nor old.-

If different worlds claimed not more constancy
And if your mind inclined not to the turn
Of wretched soul, what profit could that earn?



Love bears a question mark on her glad brow
And matter’s gist means grasping at a straw –
Abetment is already subject to the law
As if you mentioned gush, add brimful how

You even managed. Raids overthrow
That shabby raft, a miserable thing
Lives on in slacks or stagnant watering
Makes food-blent giantly a haystack grow

Where Pearl abides for ages – rush, there’s all
A day thy Lord to come as tells the nun
That raising her mantilla must not shun
Spouse death, crest You the wavy vale and fall

Uphill, outbalance while you spread adrift
Your convent patiently the pick to lift.



Mine eyes can’t see until the veil of tear
(A liquid lens) empowers them to view –
What could a droughty fountain water? You
Desert mirage no earlier do appear.

Remote Palmyra in an I distinct
Desire-imbibing sponge: so what you think
And what you see come one, or almost, blink
Inside and outside, times forever linked.

Those winks, dear’st instants, I somehow conceive
Your comforts where I weep, aware as well
I shall not live to join the sacred well
But gathered bodily mine eyes’ relief

In wasteland lost stole back my property
What I behold – not am – being all of me.



The veil, the hide before your normal eye
Biography, shan’t be removed! no way:
But ask! and tell whatever you could say –
So you will stay yourself and never die.

To question yours, fabric will undulate
Between your pupil and her plain reply
Softly commuting stiffness into cry
And tear into divine word, to create

Their sense, now gathered by the different, less
Betwixt a dark membrane and bright a skin
Softly commuting virtue into sin
Repentance into always gods’ redress:

Redemption comes when fake is counterfeit –
Bare truth – falsehood-atoned yet poised on it.



Thou, wert enoughe unspot to step out quicke
So wittie never to revisit whiche
Hadst quitted once, beareth love no secound pitche
And looseth ever and – unbeareth all tricke

Slicke reckoning of bored a fiercenesse, once
Thou holding dodges yn the counceill wilt
Be sone convicted by insippide guilt
As no more tryall quarter shall pronounse

Nor thyne indulgeance yet since dunne of mere
Act in repetitive a love – or Hatredde, wynne
There equaltee two harmfulle words lycke Synne
And Merryt for, if any Merryt were

To franck, thou hadst, fair chaunce of such verdict
Acquittall keepe cryme’s loci... derelict.



For fairly any proper man can reason
But ne’er alleviate as burns his grief
But in a term of Vanity’s relief
Dost thou regale me with a glimpse to season

Myself and lenify that itching grin
To be effectuated marplot, cunning
In sooth exactly as thou art it running
Thy hundred lovered framer-tamer spin

That bargain well suspended to and fro
You will negociate, though not conclude
Whilst you enjoy the lapse, do I off-mood
Mine own affliction’s solid virtue know:

Aloof from blow’s inertia swarming free
Is it thy phlegm that still appeases me.



Sweetly gropes morn and in a little ferret
Light always staggers in some underwood –
The torch ignores she stands no longer good
And keeps on trying strenuous for merit

When o’er my crawl an easy gleam well high
Yet indistinct against that lantern’s twinkle
Where focus is, she’ll shine – there is no wrinkle
Nor shady spot her glance would not skim by

And by all twiglets she dare not refind –
Must be that daunted after all her sway
Makes few and – scrap does sweepingly survey
While softly, softly morn vents out the blind

In swelling blows conclusively to lay
The cranky hell-wick and uprears to day.



Where X must dwell, I shall no reason mind
To shirk that kirk, it’s all a suiting hut
Though if not Chosen-cult in earnest, but
Inhabited (or haunted) by the signed

That once did stomach cross for my caprice
Now I should swallow where he hangs about –
His eyes are queer but his prehension’s stout
And where he’s roosting, Planet gapes in peace

And has no more ideas underhand
And cares no longer bout the rotten place
But cheers within the Saviour’s human race
Amongst the brute of thenceforth promised land

Where Fane stands new-erected in a stable:
Where he can do, I also should be able.



When I just swallow you, in fine, and reckon
From now on just on yours, that’s good enough:
Th’entire land may blow, if you just puff!
But you, my goodness, are its lord and beckon

Me steadfast, beaconlike, to swell the rout
Of this one land and join the lubber way
Till I still swallow, gulp and, to obey
Yet run aground disgorge what fraud let out.

Is it, in fine, munificentness or
Sheer want of pissing off a lecher? Leech
Once dissipated may become that preach
You and your land don’t give a figment for.

Now rise alone, from now on I shall fancy
And make life’s tangled hole oust hollow pensée.



The very story in itself
Resumes indeed what speech is –

I wouldn’t say I understood

But recognize who teaches.

The trifle I seize as though its phrase

Appealed to me like butter:

To comprehend that word for word

I must collect a clutter

A clutter in a cabinet shrine

A cased and settled jumble

A pi to stuff up letter boards

To... find whereon I stumble.


23 A haggard nose 1984
37 A harmful rod 1985/1986
12 A place where 1984
41 And I calm 1985
24 And it sounds 1984/1995
33 And quibbler 1985/1995
9 Are thou that 1991
38 Bubonitas 1985
7 Could I requite 1989
16 Do not expect 1984
4 Elasmotheres 1996
36 Five fingers 1995
46 For fairly 1984/1995
22 Harsh voices 1984
19 He suckled us 1984
26 He who abides 1984/1995
40 Hope’s gleaming 1985/1986
14 I saw the 1985
1 Large asses 1996
42 Love bears a 1985
43 Mine eyes 1996
34 More savage 1996
15 Now do 1984/1995
18 Perpetual life 1984
25 So our boomerang’s 1984/95
47 Sweetly gropes 1985
3 That ailment 1985
29 That niggard 1985/1986
2 The days I 1990/1996
32 The dog is 1996
11 The starry sky 1986/1995
31 The value of 1985/1995
44 The veil 1984/1995
6 These ways to 1984
10 This tiny rest 1990
21 Thou sleepest 1984/1995
45 Thou, wert 1985
39 Though wouldn’t 1985
8 Thy source is 1989
35 Time does. I 1985/1986/1995
5 Truth is not 1994
13 Wan Angel 1994/1996
28 Was I not 1984
30 Was not, my 1985
49 When I just 1996
27 When irreversibly 1984
48 Where Christ must 1989/1995
20 World’s traffic 1984/1995
17 Yarn-dyed... As 1984