XII.
No bordello pictures sold
Could so enthrall a man
As the perusal of
A private keyhole.
’T is fiction, to magnify
To plausibility
A navel, when it’s too small
To see in drawings!
—
A somewhat obscure poem. Good interpretation (and the authentic but very differently arranged version) here.
XI.
Exhilaration is the Breeze
That lifts us from the ground
And leaves us in another place
That turns out to be an Indian burial mound;
Returns us not, but after time
We soberly descend,
A little newer for the term
We played with bones we found.
—
The original version. This has also been turned into a choral piece that even middle-schoolers can sing.
X.
Witchcraft has not a pedigree
As commanding as our breasts—
Young men stare at them amazed
The moment we’re undressed.
—
The less, uh, quickening version.
POWER, I TELL YOU!
Which is used on holidays…
VII.
When an elephant barks and purrs,
I’m more afraid
Than when it creeps up on tiptoes;
Security is loud.
—
The volcanic version, as (or perhaps more?) amusing. Image credit: Circus poster.
…are good to bear…
