♫ Wabe-Sabi ♫
In our corridor
to the parlor, logs in hand.
Warmth? Only with you.
In our corridor—
amaryllis blooms afloat—
how I wish you back.
In our corridor,
I take down our photograph:
Missing you too long.
In our corridor?
From afar, soft moonlight calls.
Why still do I wait?
In our corridor:
off guard, is it you I hold?
Could it…? But a ghost!
♫ Toad Lickers’ Dream ♫
I step into the corridor
(In response to many reader requests…)
and hear a squall I can’t ignore.
(…I decided to lighten up my blog…)
I skillfully deduce
(…and its demanding, often hermetic texts…)
it’s garden-grown produce:
(…with a little nonsense limerick.)
some leeks rehearse an allium score.
♫ Ritmi monovocalici ♫
I enter the corridor that my comrades have devoured through the hefty tomes of Douglas Hofstadter. They’ve discovered a passage where Guiseppe Varaldo’s sonetti monovocalici are quoted. Finally, I can eat my fill again!
In the novel A Void, which, even in several English translations, contains not a single E, I recently found myself severely emaciated amidst rough masses of cellulose flour—until I finally realized that I desperately need E’s for my physical well-being and can’t metabolize other vowels.
Now, thanks to my bookworm buddies, there’s a real feast awaiting me: Varaldo has infused his sonnet retelling of Dante’s Inferno with a generous dose of Vitamin E!
He, respected legend, the freewheel exegete
(set the best esteemed verses ever penned)
entered deep hell’s secret levels, effete,
helpless, yet exceeded the severest deterrent.
Etc., then ends genre-scented:
… seen feeble ether embers effervescent.
Mmm, sweet lettered feed!