Collected Poems in English and French Read Free

down pestling the transmission
    tires bleeding voiding zeep the highway
    all heaven in the sphincter
    the sphincter

    müüüüüüüde now
    potwalloping now through the promenaders
    this trusty all-steel this super-real
    bound for home like a good boy
    where I was born with a pop with the green of the larches
    ah to be back in the caul now with no trusts
    no fingers no spoilt love
    belting along in the meantime clutching the bike
    the billows of the nubile the cere wrack
    pot-valiant caulless waisted in rags hatless
    for mamma papa chicken and ham
    warm Grave too say the word
    happy days snap the stem shed a tear
    this day Spy Wedsday seven pentades past
    oh the larches the pain drawn like a cork
    the glans he took the day off up hill and down dale
    with a ponderous fawn from the Liverpool London and
    Globe
    back the shadows lengthen the sycomores are sobbing
    to roly-poly oh to me a spanking boy
    buckets of fizz childbed is thirsty work
    for the midwife he is gory
    for the proud parent he washes down a gob of gladness
    for footsore Achates also he pants his pleasure
    sparkling beestings for me
    tired now hair ebbing gums ebbing ebbing home
    good as gold now in the prime after a brief prodigality
    yea and suave
    suave urbane beyond good and evil
    biding my time without rancour you may take your oath
    distraught half-crooked courting the sneers of these fauns
    these smart nymphs
    clipped like a pederast as to one trouser-end
    sucking in my bloated lantern behind a Wild Woodbine
    cinched to death in a filthy slicker
    flinging the proud Swift forward breasting the swell of
    Stürmers
    I see main verb at last
    her whom alone in the accusative
    I have dismounted to love
    gliding towards me dauntless nautch-girl on the face of the
    waters
    dauntless daughter of desires in the old black and flamingo
    get along with you now take the six the seven the eight or
    the little single-decker
    take a bus for all I care walk cadge a lift
    home to the cob of your web in Holles Street
    and let the tiger go on smiling
    in our hearts that funds ways home

Sanies II
    there was a happy land
    the American Bar
    in Rue Mouffetard
    there were red eggs there
    I have a dirty I say henorrhoids
    coming from the bath
    the steam the delight the sherbet
    the chagrin of the old skinnymalinks
    slouching happy body
    loose in my stinking old suit
    sailing slouching up to Puvis the gauntlet of tulips
    lash lash me with yaller tulips I will let down
    my stinking old trousers
    my love she sewed up the pockets alive the live-oh she did
    she said that was better
    spotless then within the brown rags gliding
    frescoward free up the fjord of dyed eggs and thongbells
    I disappear don't you know into the local
    the mackerel are at billiards there they are crying the scores
    the Barfrau makes a big impression with her mighty bottom
    Dante and blissful Beatrice are there
    prior to Vita Nuova
    the balls splash no luck comrade
    Gracieuse is there Belle-Belle down the drain
    booted Percinet with his cobalt jowl
    they are necking gobble-gobble
    suck is not suck that alters
    lo Alighieri has got off au revoir to all that
    I break down quite in a titter of despite
    hark
    upon the saloon a terrible hush
    a shiver convulses Madame de la Motte
    it courses it peals down her collops
    the great bottom foams into stillness
    quick quick the cavaletto supplejacks for mumbo-jumbo
    vivas puellas mortui incurrrrrsant boves
    oh subito subito ere she recover the cang bamboo for
    bastinado
    a bitter moon fessade la mode
    oh Becky spare me I have done thee no wrong spare me
    damn thee
    spare me good Becky
    call off thine adders Becky I will compensate thee in full
    Lord have mercy upon
    Christ have mercy upon us

    Lord have mercy upon us

Serena I
    without the grand old British Museum
    Thales and the Aretino
    on the bosom of the Regent's Park the phlox
    crackles under the thunder
    scarlet beauty in our world dead fish adrift
    all things full of gods
    pressed down and bleeding
    a weaver-bird is