View from the terrace of the family's Brooklyn Heights apartment

Thursday, February 14, 2013

Jack & Jill


The moon will not beam without bringing a dream
Of my beautiful Jillulalee;
And the sun cannot set but with tears of regret
For my lovely Jillulalee.

For once up a mount Titanic
I roamed with my darling Jillee,
Till we came to an orbed ceramic
Me and the lovely Jillee.
That hill was somber and lonely
Haunted by ill angels only,

When in a voluminious spell,
She tumbled into the Stigantian well!
Its sad waters, sad and chilly
Used my Jillulali illy.

So the moon will not beam without bringing a dream
Of the beautiful Jillee,
Until the night-tide when I float at the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life, and my bride
In her sepulcher there on the hill,
In her tomb on the top of the hill!


Rub your head, dear Jack, and I will mine, 
and we will go forth,
Fetching nations and cities as we go!
Caressing men and mothers of men, not despising
redlipp’d barman, butcher, pimp, sagamore,
Up from the sudden preordain’d fall, now so
Though eons in the making,
Down through the valley seductively summoning,
Over the hay-fields into the sixth-month sunset
so lusciously beckoning,
We will set forth, adhesiveness thenceforth tumultuously
Allons, Camarado, hop to it!


At the first twisting of the spiral
The cicada sang his dry chant.
Is there water in the clear well
Nourishing multifoliate rose?
If there had been no water there,
There had been no turning,
Nor returning turned to Fall and Flood.
Save me Lord, but not now!
Chick chick chick chack
I Tiresias, though blind, saw it all foredoomed,
Enacted upon a broken Vesuvio,
Young Apollo’s cerebral crack,
Jill going down on her protuberant back,
Co co rico
Husband, I have immortal longings!

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