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![]() Poetry ![]() Galatea Thetis Actaeon Knossos Agonistes Penelope Villanelle Other ![]() Contact About |
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![]() VillanelleTheir thighs and limbs grown lighter, like sticky castanets, Stone-bruised horses with one white horn stamp, summoning floods, And the eyes of men glow fire as they cast their nets. Rolling in an amber sap, whole packs of filthy Jobs Grovel beneath a quick-dying tree, and touch its bole, Their thighs and limbs grown lighter, like sticky castanets. The King of Roses opes his bursting veins, faking throes Of pain. Clear red salve begins to glister in the globes, And the eyes of men glow fire as they cast their nets. In his antechamber, Bacchus quietly disrobes For leering witches, who dangle tinsel from their lobes, Their thighs and limbs grown lighter, like sticky castanets. Mulciber claims his gutted throne. His fleshy train gloats At the innocents, who smear jambs with the blood of shoats, And the eyes of men glow fire as they cast their nets. Children dress and dance in mud, with twigs for rude barrettes, And fall behind an oil stone where gleaming cherubs flow, Their thighs and limbs grown lighter, like sticky castanets; And the eyes of men glow fire as they cast their nets. ![]() |
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