I saw rhyme in some fitness class

 

like a Mahfouz I'm in an alley who couldn't
     have made

more tragic nor more weightless, (end-
     stopped with

death or just plain heavy to its dull core),
      young bearded

muscle-head with his pop in hand, aural
     or his spectral girl

that me a poet had been happy to draw one
      beat nearer,

or bear like the childless guy who dust
     will die with but

as the eye is quicker than the pen, Chantal
     skipping rope and

tall fools grown slowly into big daddy gut
     so it's no surprise

that girls, stockings torn down one cute leg
     pick bad boys to wise

contra Satana



(for C.S.Lewis)


If I'll call u out, catholic-wise and I bloody well will,
  --for the fun's in doing it!--

however finicky and rickety female nerves and parts,
   and --how u say it!--love of eyes

and a thing all fun and cordially earful and ven'mous
  (and what early riser isn't!)

that it itself, and for itself, resists and then contracts
  into one stinky roman mouth-- oh!

if I bloody well like & I'll even tear a chipped fang out,
 of all prepossessing shits like u,

who lie 'cross a gap between rot & holy höhere tongues
 who spew nasal views & swallow, too--

If I'll call u out & make it likely that you intended to be
   the same ol' frumious grab and twist

of the dryest wistfullest, most pale sweet heart I e'er saw--
  then let us say, Nu te aud, nu te aud!