1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum