Gruber Letters — A Passage Of American Poems I
Come once, come twice, come thrice. Let me allow myself to take this bustling body out of your way; supple your eyes upon these verses below.
With this tender lot, I acre upon, may the graces be upon that earthly repose, without dilation to be, I would be frightened beyond the senses.
Take this all as you must, for these acres shalt be hereto evermore:
I used to Climb the Mountain
I used to climb the Mountains;
I used to clamber the Mountain.
The clicks and claps; pish and pfaff.
I huffed and by scarfing throes, I hungered
To clamber her breezy-ridged back lowes.
Clamber the mountain I so did; once had and always laid. ’Tis no more I suppose; ’Tis my fate I suppose.
I used to climb the Mountains; — I swear! — I sway!
I used to climb the Mountains; I used to climb the Mountains; I used to climb the Mountains; — I so imbued so raw to that contingent maid, Plating to this new continent the oppressed by smiting heat, so pay the pray!
What an evil, what mirth in the demeanor of ill-begotten scars in other godly souls!
The Maths pacing me so egor to wrought away the beasts of Men that pierce, Oh, yes!
Pierce my woolly-cladded flesh with their ample knives; their probing jeers of youthful eyes most vigorous — ambling my fate by fatty juice, lunging for returns.
’Tis I… ’Tis to be done-be so.
Goosed Gosling
My neck in chains? Nay, ’tis cowered from its own nakedness by the outfit of my primal time.
For this neck; my neck is gosling.
My female oppress is vaunted under here; therein is my swaying rot, they shan’t be so eagerly clambering for me then I do concur; Compounding on these New Albion shores, I swing past the swaying man, in all his depress; The Goose Is Hide — Whilst the Minister is nigh.
Gayly, I chide! I so ado, I chide and chide whilst he swings, what ill-spirits crowds my days’ possessing.
Aye, a chain you may have presumed, but a locket I augment the standing image by the mere trick-’nd-flick of the passing utterance; ’Tis I so possessing now, I humble that vagrant steel hereafter.
For Criminy’s Sake
A weighty decision was nipped and pressed;
For criminy’s sake!:
Do not beat and bash that miserable boy —
Half into a muddled Death!
He dashes the wake of a mother
Who adorns his way
A nasty stripe, clings to his flesh, to harm him away
For criminy’s sake!:
Embittered on the pettiest of sublime acts; Mother does cling to that teaching flesh.
Now only humbled to take his wake… Poor dunce…
Bud The Madness
I blame myself not for Madness — No!
I didn’t decree myself to the Shape— No!
I didn’t hear myself beneath the hearing of
The spiraling fists of Pa — No! Cut and clime.
I didn’t spree myself to the forbidden grin
Whenever I felt the oppressing chagrin
Pressed hotly to the neck; stroking that unceasing
Narrow under my breast — No!
I blame myself not for madness — No!
I lionized the king now the dearborn throe
Perverted by Shape —
For you, trying to rein the furnace whilst I smile;
Merrily, I refrain, for that's my way!
A Bigoted Soul
Twice to naught; I shan’t visit such a shoal
For twice to-night, I’m a bigoted soul
Twice to naught; I turn to jeer
Whence an idol castle is turning so queer
Naught for naught I shall make myself clear
Before the lasting sight of my ideas’ — comes down
And makes me last to disappear
Ultimate to that taskmaster — I feign it not.
’Tis all folks, I shall let you hemmer hereafter with these words; ideas; characters shared duly. If need be, I can report to you further with the next passage. Sincerely your humble scrivener, Madam Gruber.
’Tis only a cobbler in the end that remarks the later twist last.
Attributions to be lauded
Image the first: Portrait of Maria Anna; a Sixteen-thirty portrait of Maria Anna of Spain, funded to us by the hands of one Diego Velázquez.
Image the second: The Tethered Ram published in 1845 after the painting had concluded in 1839 I do believe — by the mastery of Edwin Landseer [I have quite a soft spot for his art].
Second Season Of American Poems:
Marches Of Gold; Our Publication:
Come To Medium:
As ever, Dear Reader.
