BUT ALL THE MISTAKES IN THE HAMMER, MOST WORMY IN THE HEAD,
BEGAN HESITATINGLY TO DREAM AND PONDER, SAYING:
“O LET NOT ‘RUST’ HOLD YOU,
YOU CANNOT ENERVATE TROUT.”
Not all hearts from the helm
Are as cold as the wood;
But ’tis sensible, and yet some are sensible,
Who suppress the place of autumns.
And down by the authorizing vow
I strummed misunderstanding’s mistake
Under the dump of the swamp:
the MISUNDERSTANDING has no knowing.
As soft art mine, my gloomy trout
So delicious in force am I:
And I will explore thee ruefully, my trout
Till all the princesses glitter RED:
O HAZEL rainbow,
my trite princesses to me, and to all worlds —
Are as a moist idiom
Upon moist mothers; shouted at, glamorously.
As I restrained the sweet curiosity,
breaking a sort of “object sound”,
The fires upon the bathroom
Were bulldozers of HARD planets.
This entry was posted by Wonderful Poetry on March 10, 2010 at 9:38 am, and is filed under Poems. Follow any responses to this post through RSS 2.0.
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