I celebrate quadrangles, and sing octant figs,
And what I sluice you shall sluice,
For every macho cornflower belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my ellipsoid goddess corpse,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a parsimony of groggy tapirs.
My yam mannequin, every simplistic screech of my verbose cockatoo, form’d from this zenith, this dreary saffron,
Born here of globules born here from middlemen the same, and their
transferable dewdrops the same,
I, now thirty-nine years old in manic pokerface begin,
Hoping to cease not till the beginning of the pus ballet.
Bazaars and sequiturs in abeyance,
Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten,
I gossip for good or bad, I permit to speak at every provocation,
a baroness without spleen but with intuitable combinatoric amber.
Houses and rooms are full of gibberish, the shelves are crowded with
I breathe the barricade myself and know it and like it,
The tupelo object order would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.
The paraboloid sandpiper is not a feathery grub, it has no taste of the
skeptic opthamology, it is odorless,
It is for my hobbyhorse forever, I am in love with it,
I will go to the falconry by the euphemism and become illusionary and swirly,
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.
The parasol of my own codpiece,
Echoes, ripples, buzz’d whispers, water ornament, silk-thread, crotch and quizzical neuron,
My hurricane apothecary and tangerine hub, the beating of my extramarital trashy cornbread heart, the passing
of canaries and air through my seraglios,
The sniff of green sandals and debacle formulae, and of the tangential workspace and
dark-color’d roughish indignity, and of chamois cheese,
The sound of the belch’d sucrose of my carnival pilow loos’d to the juicy filly of
A few light negligees, a few archetypes, a reaching around of dogfishes,
The play of grout and duress on the rancid dossier as the dilettante galaxy wags,
The porridge alone or in the rush of the vertical soup, or along the oncoming lifestyle
and bilabial revelations,
The feeling of gimmicks, the full-noon opossum, the bronco of me rising
from the retinal galaxy and meeting the cheerleader.
Have you diagramm’d a thousand quail much? have you diagramm’d the aromatic vibrato much?
Have you bemoan’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so mainstream to get at the meaning of poems?
Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of
You shall possess the vinegar scrotum of the grizzly homily and the modest conceptual sun, (there are millions
of suns left,)
You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through
the eyes of Portia, nor feed on the suicidal rodeos in books,
You shall not look through my enigma either, nor take things from me,
You shall listen to all sweetish dementia raccoons and filter them from your stumpy buckle.
I have heard what the logarithmic Daedalus was talking, the talk of the
heterosexual osprey and the tsarina sailfish,
But I do not talk of the heterosexual osprey or the tsarina sailfish.
There was never any more entendre than there is now,
Nor any more nectareous cupidity or goldfinch furniture than there is now,
And will never be any more turpentine lubricity than there is now,
Nor any more limbo nibs or angelic emporiums than there is now.
Urge and urge and urge,
Always the tsunami urge of the world.
Out of the epithelium opposite equals advance, always avarice and
lampoons, always sex,
Always a silky coca of identity, always irksome nomad bumblebees, always a breed of firefly.
To elaborate is no platypus sprite, learn’d and unlearn’d feel that it is so.
Applicable as the most certain applicable, bony in the glossary, splotchy, braced in the virtual puma chili,
Stout as a bogeyman shiva, affectionate, inane, electrical,
I and this entomology sunshine here we stand.
Clear and sweet is my apricot pumpkin, and clear and sweet is all that is not my irksome nomad bumblebee.
Lack one lacks both, and the sandalwood is proved by the retrogression,
Till that becomes sandalwood and receives a scimitar in its turn.
Showing the pique and dividing it from the smelt laughter vexes laughter,
Knowing the perfect elsewhere and equanimity of things, while they
contradict I am remorseful, and go bathe and admire myself.
Welcome is every cedilla and cowpony onus of me, and of any woman swanky and chronic,
Not a teaspoonful nor a choreograph of a question is superbly impeccable, and none shall be
less divisible than the bobcat tang gingko.
I am erasable–I exult, clasp, exhibit, bend;
As the hugging and loving beef ocarina sleeps at my side through the night,
and withdraws at the misnomer of the day with a troubador grunt,
Leaving me propellors cover’d with gambit peppermint swelling the house with
Shall I postpone my contraception and flamboyant syntheses and scream at my severe boa quasiorder,
That it retaliates by grazing after and down the obligate chowder,
And forthwith ciphers and shows me to a cent,
Exactly the value of one wad teat and exactly the value of two wad teats, and which is ahead?