May 13, 2008 at 7:01 pm | Posted in poetry, writing | 10 Comments
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with mr N. again, Squires, are we? need we have this discussion again, it is a simple question of vowel sounds, articulate, despise, he puts his grey fedora on the piano and coughs, dabs the corner of his mouth with the cuff of his shirt which trails ornate silk brocade,
thus spake, was it,
play some keith jarrett, start again, why not,
it seems there is a cost to immortality which it is my burden to bear,
play something original,
where is some trace of light some beam some beacon,
are we lost again at sea, she is as leaky as an unstaunched wench
one cries,
then came upon some mystery, lashed to the mast
and waving a jug of ale, bring it on, bring it on,
one more time that siren song,
haha, he says, picking up his hat in perfect pluperfect  

“she is as leaky as an unstaunched wench” is from Shakespeare, Act One Scene One, “The Tempest”

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