as machines, since the dawn of time, have been wont to break
and so, from this point on, all the novel is only in my head
and, to quote George Eliot, “where were we?”
(Middlemarch, near the middle)

and so I said to Limishka, who had been adjusting her eyebrows,
that the best way to appreciate art is to – at which point
the toilet roll holder fell off the bathroom wall ….

Shall we sign a truce then tear it up?
Oh, my shambolic knee! My unfortunate calf –

which is why I’ve refused to eat veal since
it became impossible to buy it at the butcher’s

Shall we sign a truce?
The world and I, we have been at odds – my lunch
was scrumptious then I threw up –

Dear Zeus,

Thank you for the sky, weather, thunder, lightning, law, order, and justice.
Of course, I’m joshing you, by Jove!

Dear Poseidon,

Thank you for flood of tears.
In this poetic world one can never have enough.

Dear Ares,

Thank you for the leaflet on Self-Defence.
But I am something of a wimp, if truth be told, and not like you at all.

Oh! my angry toenails
My grumbling footnotes

Fingers with no point
Legs completely gone

The potatoes are almost done
Salad days are here again
Did you remember to manufacture the vinegar?
Let’s hope the neighbours can’t hear us in our enjoyments

Look at you, you’re in Heaven. Free as that bluebird.
Thank you, David. Rest now.