Before you is Corinth
once a pedestal for wrestlers
in classical shorts.
What method in their manner!
Shall we say the gods
with lights behind us
have broken wind
in a changing system?
Yesterday behind the olive boughs
they too were lucid.
Send us again, O gods,
peppers and poppyseed,
porphyry and white cocks.
After a thousand years
Saint Casper said: Behold
the apple blossoms of the new world,
the early grapes,
the young man’s cartograph
on which appears an arrow
pointed north to heaven.
There the gentle still idealize,
the heart is lighter.
And the good Cross is attended.
But we pass obscurely
from post to sleep,
opening the constructions
of the virtuous and loghouse
Puritans of Massachusetts.
They planted radishes
and hailed the Savior
spreading His alarming
feathers over the pickets.
A country house in April
after a thousand years.
Poor headpiece,
you are unhappy.
Buy yourself some alcohol for winter
and a squirrel rifle for Sunday morning.
You too will juggle
rabbits, eggs, bananas
physical and resolute.
Tumblers in the nebula,
is not every man
his own host?
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