Tuesday, June 9, 2009


After the long posting yesterday (almost 5,500 words) I would like to present a few little English koans to mull over while your humble author is overwhelmed by office work.

Tomorrow we shall be returning to the world of epic, with a new stanza or two in the continuing romantic melodrama I call "
the Pushkin project."


Moody men, like marzipan,
Look luscious. And, made of paste,
Both peaches and pink pachyderms
Dissolve as almonds taste.


Why shamble in an onion sack?
Come, tint your tears with gold!
I’ve tickets to The Slaughterhouse.
Everyone’s in it, I’m told.


When all the trees turned out for spring
Clad only in their bark,
The oaks and the elms were arrested—trunks
Uprooted in the dark.


In coaches carved from cinnabar
Cadavers finger clay:
While Spanish footmen feast their eyes,
These English look away.


I’d rather roll down Daisy Hill,
Roll down with a ditty, and down,
And when we hit Rock Bottom, dear,
Spin the world around.

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