Reynolds & Midway 57

Now let us speak of Gorlim, Barahir,
& Beren, not of Bob, who in the hands
of Julia lay idle in the bed
of Mark that beta who with mouth full-wet
did thru the fluttring shutterd lens betray
himself & wife; and that of Midway, torn,
conflicted, pinprickd by a rash of arrows,

redfaced & sacrletsinnd, who w/ clencht knees
did hearken unto demons & those angels
of his better nature, led afar astray
but not with fierce twang, as had sung that Robt
who told to Wm of those loaves of stone
where 2 cld walk abreast & of those birch
& apple trees, of departmental ants

(& those w Quaker hats were Simic's ants),

& waiting wives by hills where millers stalkd
where low greene hills did pop w dandelions
milkweed (milkweed?) daisies, beetles, cows
whose mild & comely girth did frighten Willie
whan he had hid behind his mother's hip
and thoght him that that milk wast tasty pee
& dreamd of ants that nite whan Daddy sd
Billy the ants are in yr head

& Billy cried in terror anxious fear
& dread of dreams before the skull machine
welcomd such visions: That Lovecraftian crackt
and cakelike mould of stinky mildewd stairs
where chains did clang below & clammy walls
& gappy crookéd wooden concrete steps
that wound & wound 
around & round
O cabbages & kings 
& queens & guillotines

far farther down than any wandring lad
wld wander had he will & wakend choice
deep in the ground where moles & slippry snails
& salamanders newts (who knew too much)
did slyly slither with those slithy toves
beneath the stones that gatherd Howard Moss

whan older he had taught us how to sing
in perfect measure, him the poet prophet
spectacled & modest, editor
& master, who had made the summer start—
and in a renaissance of rings—
who told of Midas who wld touch
the world to gold & thereby sufferd much—

O cabbages & kings 
& queens & guillotines
& Brad's left fingers dazzling on the board
we thoght were Joe's whan we were young & narrow|

Now, we have never spoke of Barahir
nor Gorlim, nor of Beren & we shant
for one far greater did that wonder thing
& died, alas, but lives w Luthien
in that Tol Galen, island in the stream
of Adurant, where they forever thru
for aye far fresher fields make pastures new.

7.2.15