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28306verses - c. 1983

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  • louise
    May 4, 2004
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      Acid, tender, deft Catullus, who sit
      Regally now among the gods, permit
      That brawling louts of thought can no more find
      An unimpeded entrance to this flaccid mind
      Of mine, than in your muscled Roman verse
      Auxiliary verbs and articles find place.


      Another day: what is there here?
      Limbs transmuted into limbs of lead.
      Each laboured inhalation fuels a sigh.
      A sluggish army marches in my head.

      What is the use of the garden? Eh?
      The scent of no flower pleases me.