Sunday, July 13, 2014

In the Throes of Postmodern Delusion, Huuklyeand Cinquor Fancies Himself Addressing One of the Icons of 20th Century Poetry

My dearest Sylvia--
(May I call you that?)
Forgive me but I think 
It's high time you knew

Your pure peerless line
Of pears fattening keeps on

Thriving as never before,
Being ravenously consumed

By bookish little Buddha inchworms
Contemplating their navels

All the way down to a rotten core. 

Moderator's comments: I see no signs of any delusion in this missive but then again, too much language-oriented omphaloskepsis on my part makes it difficult for me to distinguish my umbilicus from my belly button.


  1. Ah, Cinquor

    aren't you a little hard on Ted (if he's the "bookish little Buddha inchworm" you mean). Didn't he get a memorial stone in Westminster? A place to rest your feet after a long day of touring?

  2. yes, i can see where that would be a problem....

  3. Huuk,

    You can call me anything you like. Just call me!

    I thought the damn thing was never going to ring!!

    Love, Sylvia

  4. Conrad: I didn't have Ted in mind specifically but your last sentence reminds me that what he did was indeed a real feat.

    Richard: Even more of a problem if I was staring at my navel and eating a peach.

    Tom: What Sylvia really needs is one of them smart mobile iPhones to get her out of her doldrums.


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