My aunt Dinah and the coachman. . .led us a vagary some millions of miles into very heart of the planetary system

To entice his neighbours wifes. . . to leave their husbands. . to see the daughters of They. . . and to

follow him by turns into other countreys, and after a long vagare, to return again to see Thee gates of hot Sun-shine. . .

will quickly prompt them out of their Hives
to take a short vagary like did Dinah,

when she made needless flight after freakish Nature to follow into their very Hives to see the daughters of the land again

these of whom haue often vagaries ouer the desert vnto
     the prouince of Tedgear

Thee gates vncloased: a departure or straying from the planetary order esp. one of a freakish nature quickly prompting them back to the very heart of

Dinah

it was going over and over, just getting smaller
it was funny, like a waff
dreaming of itself and the words were taken away
before they could be spoken
before i lost its feeling
burning the museum down
who needs the warm Caribbean pathos after all?
Opulence has a sadness all its own—
cloistered in a more antique light:
indigo ferns and blood-red blossoms,
walking with head down in a cowl among
inner strains, thoughts turning sub-lunary cycles
and transient circuits.
Slowly life ferments this way,
refusing to gaze at the technicolor mermaids
who tango at the bottom of the oyster-tiled pool.
The opals in their feathers are expensive and
green memory turns to black and white
sea-divers in a murky struggle to cut the other’s airhose.

Copyright © 2001, by the author. All rights reserved.
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