September 19th, 2010



Suffenus has good manners, lots of charm
and so prolific too. His books of verse
are beautifully printed; the reverse
of our small print run pamphlets.Where's the harm

in that? Nice typeface, every little stitch
in place, a nice production job thanks to
his publisher. But it's so sad when you
Actually read his clumsy verses which

are witless, idiotic, countryfied,
verse with straw in its hair, a snotty nose.
But when he talks about it, you'd suppose
it great. He really would be mortified

if he knew what I think. To me this seems
a lesson in remembering motes and beams.


Furius, your poor home lacks both safe and slave,
no heating, but no spiders and no fleas.
Your father and your new stepmother have
teeth that can chew through flints as if through cheese.

And you're just snug there, for the three of you
get on so well. All of you have your health,
all of you look good. Nothing troubles you.
No arson, earthquakes, plots against your wealth

No poisoners can harm you; danger stays
far off. Your bodies must have been freeze-dried
to be so tough. On Winter's coldest days
or when there's famine, father and his bride

and you are cheerful. And you still complain?
You never sweat or drool; your fine long nose
is never snotty. And you never deign
to fart or splatter shit. It's like a rose

your sweet, intricate arse-hole is so clean
your friends could eat from it. And once a year
you squat ten minutes and produce a bean
or something like one, delicate and clear

More like a pearl than shit. Your fingers touch
it and are not stained. Furius,you're so
blessed in all ways so very very much
you do not need the tenner that I owe.