To-Day, This Insect

To-day， this insect， and the world I breathe，

Now that my symbols have outelbowed space，

Time at the city spectacles， and half

The dear， daft time I take to nudge the sentence，

In trust and tale I have divided sense，

Slapped down the guillotine， the blood-red double

Of head and tail made witnesses to this

Murder of Eden and green genesis.

The insect certain is the plague of fables.

This story's monster has a serpent caul，

Blind in the coil scrams round the blazing outline，

Measures his own length on the garden wall

And breaks his shell in the last shocked beginning；

A crocodile before the chrysalis，

Before the fall from love the flying heartbone，

Winged like a sabbath ass this children's piece

Uncredited blows Jericho on Eden.

The insect fable is the certain promise.

Death： death of Hamlet and the nightmare madmen，

An air-drawn windmill on a wooden horse，

John's beast， Job's patience， and the fibs of vision，

Greek in the Irish sea the ageless voice：

'Adam I love， my madmen's love is endless，

No tell-tale lover has an end more certain，

All legends' sweethearts on a tree of stories，

My cross of tales behind the fabulous curtain.'