1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce
12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?
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