John M. Bennett

Sole Dadas, Chunk 13

Vying, pest, whose iguana less quarreled

pairs the lugger’s hell the cam

low cake all Sol paired’s lugubrious accident,

crawls the avenues called turd’s canoe

a robust nugget which acquiesces lava

     in circled bacon,

crams the nostrils’ antipodes ah Aurora’s

roses goosed and dazed his fount,

tall sails acrylic cake’s sin’s all blown

thermos squadron’s conned ledger’s past,

hatcheting Atlantis’ dull occasion

of quantum’s humorous count, alleluya.

     The lent squadron lung

     cancelled the syrups,

and dissolving leaves the company,

the pebbled leg with loose cake and day

cedes to’s sacked volcano of errant fog,

to the torn loose corona

that tempo illustrates, and to the air’s vain

artifice dull, exhaled

luminous or pulverized seats,

     purples not comets.

The fugues, pests, the jovial sodomizing,

mittens the veiled aunt’s accusèd tea

of all the bodies’ dust, no goon sea

of nocturnal Phaeton’s corroded ardent,

     and miserably

camps menacing’s sterile day sentinel

     that notched’s idea.

Of Alcides’ low level luggage the plants,

     which stabbed not my legs

but trained the cable verdant to quantum’s

day ,the fugal lust and royal pajamas.

     Tantra garbled’s robust

tantric offerings of the Alamo’s zigzag,

which debriefed Sol on a strainer,

     poured verse’s minus bell,

quantum’s salute what raids the bengal,

     lo of the Ganges’ sizzling dust.

The gate bailer solicits the gust,

     ah the voice of salt;

across the Trion’s massed fig hemisphere,

where the trunk major on the river dances;

     the echo (voice’s yak entire)

ignores hay’s silence to what prompts no response;

the final is’s dull royal cad’s underwear,

lusty’s the reflex, the goo vitreous.

Terminal lays dot the swains all rejoiced,

moist the cans’ ants’ not, caked the movement

verdigris of the forces’ ex prolix.

Transduced from Luis de Góngora's Soledades