“Now we come to discover that the moments of agony...are likewise permanent with such permanence as time has...Or even a very good dinner, but the sudden illumination - -We had the experience but missed the meaning.” - from “The Dry Salvages” by T.S. Eliot
3
The Drying Assuages
“And all is vanity amongst these my ruins, ”
says Sweeney, whoever he may be,
tidies up neurotically, gin on the breath
for he is bored unto death but awaits daily
the post for possible liberty which he took
once on the mooch with a wealthy dowager who
mistook him for someone else. The scar forever
reminds of dumb lusts and dumber luck never
dreaming she was a black belt, his teeth,
now cracked, remind him to “be mindful of
the good against all wants” so sitz he the
wiser, chaste, a slack-jawed wastrel, piles
cooling upon cool stones, in ruins reading
Sam Beckett but that is another story written
in stars Centauric, to wit
qua qua qua
sisk boom ba
twixt Fucquaad
