"Blondeshell Equinox" (Pessoa XXXIV.)
The fisher takes you, and his hooks are blind
with desire. A fact-filled sustenance gives birth
in howling Jishcha to divs, dreams, and mankind;
so let it be with Caesar. Groundstalworth
your footing in the creek-bed, garter curtail
you ride with kimchee ammo, tax-exempt.
Flowstone knows, quern severe and Israfel [fail]
a cat with crossed legs chuckles. Trilobite contempt
to heed but why? Too late. A fardel lacking
in heftable coherence, fall & cause-
way in one. You peel away the backing;
find air, air. Is there besides the shows
of force, force? No way. There’s no one there
the dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear.
