There was a minotaurministry,
an outoftown eye's harmth o' viewful,
viewtafoul bonechina superstore
for bulkbreakage bulls.
It's a maze:
whose? Ownliason, onliest of all the one ways,
th'expiration of a lifeless passage
t'oak and silk grave
underoldground instead of overit, finally. Always
dismayed, cage of alwayses ragged as a poxy ox,
kensingtonyak i attacked for a sark,
loppy mosesstroked pantozie,
ta wear for the duration of a lifer's beserkness.
for burdensome overhanging dream of nobody's
By scooping proxy i woke withinits
without's outer, a cark tarp
for dreams of being an object leftforgot , abjectified
in soiling rain:
liferlice's beserkness from the past-
ta-come. One couldn't refuse all of it incoming at once,
nor one 'once' refuse all ow it once at least.
Forwoe, ounce up on a lice,
the past that blowed blewin, additivesonthewind,
'…Pandora and I indulged in extremely heavy petting; so heavy that I felt a weight fall from me.
If I don't pass my exams it won't matter.
I have known what it is to have the love of a good woman.'
Sue Townsend, The Growing Pains of Adrian Mole
'The rod bends low, divining land,
And through the sundered water crawls
A garden holding to her hand
With birds and animals'
Dylan Thomas, Ballad of the Long-legged Bait