BORIS VIANThe bendbind, more jaunty
The apogee, less endless
The ruckub, eternally snow clad
There will be the chalamonder
The ivrunini, the baroqueme
A whole planting of analittles
The hours will be di√erent
Not all the same, with no result
No point in fixing now
Exactly what it’ll be like
But one thing’s for sure: one day
There won’t be just the day.
—rosemary lloyd
What for Do I Live Then
What for do I live then
What for do I live then
For the lemony leg
Of a blond woman
Leaning on the wall
In the blazing sun
For the round sail
Of a pointed in the port
For the shadow of the shades
The icy co√ee
You drink in a tube
To touch the sand
See the water’s depths
That grow so blue
That go so low
With the fish
The calm fish
Grazing on the depths
Flying above
The seaweed hairs
Like birdies slow
Like birdies blue
Why I live
It’s so nice.
—rosemary lloyd