Monday, January 13, 2014

Canto 5

Canto 5

Bang, for a moment you’re nearly dead,
done in by your own tomfoolery,
stayed merely because we’re American-girl bred

to soldier on despite your Disney cartoonery.
Trees have bled
since Ovid’s version of Dryopery

as male gods have relentlessy fed
their unquenchable appetite for roebuckery
on every virgin misled

into their libidinous huggermuggery.
Dante’s spins a thread
of jabberwockery

whiffling from the maw of Fred-
erick the 2nd’s castoffery
hypothesizing scorn & envy could be shed

by suicide. Spare me the nincompoopery
of that dunderhead. Instead,
let’s focus on VIP poltroonery

whereby Virgil petitions to be led
by Nessus across River Blood to the tree nursery.
Why don’t a rapist rot in the foul bed

he’s made? No doubt, it’s garden-variety chicanery
sowed in hell. I’ve heard said
that Boston beanery

mobsters to Chicago wardheelers are wed
then jammed into the upholstery
of airplane overheads,

a species of cocoonery
due to nothing more than Dante’s being widely read,
a six-pack of lampoonery


1 comment:

  1. somebody ate their Wheaties today. What fun this is. Ouch and Wow.