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SOULS AND TOES
I went to a Soul Fight at Hermione's
And nothing normal can describe it…
It was beyond rhyme, reason, rum, rhubarb or rhythm…
Therefore, Vers Libre Muse, help me!
Imagist outcast with the bleary eyes,
My Psychic Pup, my polyrhythmic hound, lift up your voice and help me howl!
Tenth Muse, doggerel muse, slink hither, brute,
And lick your master's hand… I've need of thee…
Come catercornered on three legs with doubtful tail and eager eyes…
Tomorrow I may bash you in the ribald ribs again
And publicly disown you;
But oh! today I've need of thee…
Wingèd mongrel, mutt divine, come here and help me bay the piebald moon!
It was a Soul Fight at Hermione's…
A fat Terpsichore with polished toes… a barefoot she Soul
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