Epigrams

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."



1.

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


2.

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.

3.

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.


4.

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

5.

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.

Side Effects

One of thing I have noticed lately, when I drink a bottle of wine, which is not very often, is that the next morning, when I wake up, I usually don't feel like Thor has spent the night kneeling beside my pillow hammering horseshoes on my head. I am not sure why this is. Perhaps all of this exercise is paying off in increased metabolism. I am reluctant to theorize. I will just note that I am happy not to feel moldy this morning and whisper a soft, "Hosanna!" and leave it at that.

Many things to do today, so I don't have time for my typical long and tedious post.

Instead, I would like to you leave you with a Koan to chew over til tomorrow.

A Note to Narcissus

Narcissus, I’m your well:
Look deeply into me
And try to love yourself—
Not the things you see.