Debossing the Devil

h/t: Welsh Bridge at Shrewsbury, J.M.W. Turner c 1800

Debossing the Devil

You and yours’ waterworks welsh on the parade

zeugma-blurring sotong, I’m afraid,

And a dtiin-mɛɛo, meowing as they mock,

as they bemoan, the morn’s slipshod news by the Shrewsbury clock.

There are none such hidebound quondam hounds as those,

Whose secreted skulls hoax humane pose,

Or freedom of the press,

As later models literally profess.

An imprint for a devil’s advocate

In its details, is a devilish fate.

Hammocks on Tenterhooks

h/t: A Barn Interior with a Slaughtered Pig, Children Playing Beyond, Isaac van Ostade, 1645

Hammocks on Tenterhooks

Whosoever does swallow and follow,

fail to fathom the frumious,

craftivists of semiotics,

who wallow like wretched latchkey kids,

in ratty redàrios,

their electronic books  

knocked into a cocked hat.

Here hangs poetic Poplarism

as excrescence over heads.

Babel Barf

h/t Frances Hodgkins, Houses and Outhouses, Purbeck (?) c 1942
Bring Up The Blog Bogs

The last thing one wants
in the lachrymator borstal,
is an à la Tène skattefar hating on
habeas corpus blog bowl searching,
a short shrift lexicographer
lamenting reverential out-of-print
poems by indie polyglots.

Premature Milquetoast

h/t: Woods with Millstone, Paul Cézanne, 1894

And as header for a final resting place
the buhrstone of the darg can make its last stand.
Eldritch necklace that haunts sui-similar àlmājìrīs’ dreams,
it deduces and retargets the publishing
of Queensborough mayor’s daily bread
from rock-hard rusk to polyglot patisserie.

A Mirror Suicide

h/t: Scene from the Play The Mirror Mountain, Kunisada (1), Utagawa, 1853
The one-horse cognoscente know
that old age does not bestow
trilingual Wanderworts as last resorts.
It is phronesis to scomfish,
to saegida, and to decussate,
and then to wait,
in case the looking glass reflects myopia
instead of hoped-for hyperopia.