The Other, Other Ballade of Villon

And what more, where is the third Calixte

Darn near last dead of that name,

Who four years tended the papists?

Alphons, the royal Arragon

The graceful duc of Bourbon

And Artus duc of Bretaigne,

And Charles Seven the hon. ?

But where is the pert Charlemaigne?

Similarly, the royal Scottish

Whose half-face was, says one,

Vermillion as an amethyst

Right down the chinstrap from the front?

The King of Chippre, of reknown,

Helas! and the good king of Spain

Of whom I do not know the name?

But where is the pert Charlemaigne?

But of more talking I desist;

The world is nought but illusion.

There's none who against death resists

Nor who finds provision.

And yet ask a question:

Lacelot the king of Bretaigne,

Where is he? Where is his old man?

But where is the pert Charlemaigne?

Where is Claquin the bonny Breton?

Where is the count Dauphin of Auvergne

And the late good duc of Alencon?

But where is the pert Charlemaigne?

A Sonnet from Guido to some Friends

Dante, Ezra, an exhale (messenger of

the heart) Suddenly attacked me sleeping

And I awoke, creeping,

Cuz I wasn't in company with love.

I turned a little and saw the servant

Of Monna Lagia who came saying

-help me can you please! - and crying

so much I felt so much more unnerved

That love showed up filing his darts

And I asked him concerning torment

And he answered me like this:

"Say to the servant the woman be seized

And he holds, by far, her adorement

And if he don't believe that, watch how her eye parts."

Speaking of "The New Sentence" ...

O blissful light of which clear beams I count the best. Subordinate to the third heaven. She is a clause of divinity. May we praise her eyes?

O sacrificial vessel the jade of which I model virtue. One cannot overestimate the rites. You are the clay of his bosom. Am I to bury you?

Onomopoeia of worship that goddes lips ykuste of mine. It arched a hillock in obeisance. It is the hollow of the well. Am I, moss, to grow over it?

Oscillate then, let again be phoenician the flame of the lyric.

The mystery play for its language alone is a parade worth summarizing.

---

O docile rhymes which parleying undulate. Of the gentle lady which another honours. You to be seen, if not granted once more. One who says: these are our brothers.

And then, Tuscan.

Suddenly, at the prima arriva. All such random hypotheses fondemens ruineux. The Eagle gave chase to Mr. Jean Rabbit. Bird who bore Ganymede.

Alors, Frenchman.

The "I have seen no root". Wood for humor so strong. Those who saw in the river Lombard. Her son fall, leaves out nor.

And the rest.

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paragraph stanza sonnet of love

paragraph stanza inescapable sonnet of love

As blossoms in Heian eras. Writing ends you poorest immortal. Yours are fourteeners. Uncountable the wars and ways of heaven. There were kingdoms. She felled a wall.

Auspiciously a barrier for the oncoming production. I am a stage. Rains all the worlds.

Supposing a certain tendency towards vaprous talking, she could not be trusted. Hiccups are terse. Terse. Whose white is soul. Saul is where hills love.

paragraph stanza inescapable sonnet of death

As blossoms in warring states. Last in rites. First decidedly first by a hair this time around. Was it coming then. To morrow is to sorrow. I am cheered. Is it not to share. Not to sorry. Saul missed him. Him who obeys. You are not fit for aubergine my lass. Revolt in the just desserts. Proof in the prodding. Everything is not about flowers, death.

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La Sentenzia Nova

In advance. My Lady shall be IXth. What o'clock in Arabia.

Let alignment be justice justice chiasmus chiasmus under reign.

A single long sentence. A short. What number is shortest.

De la mia donna stare se non in su lo nove, tra li nomi di queste donne.

Envoi sweet new. A foreign language probably romance. His youth.

First is divided. Second is divided. Che non abbisogna d'alcuna divisione.

---

I sing of frons, verses, feet, diesis, sirma. I canto of Safety, Love, and Virtue. I steal my dialect from all around town, the panther who visits all but dwells nowhere in particular.

Pes pes, O Amor.

I sing of frogs, mouses, geese, deer races, serpents. I cant off safely love and virtue. I steel my direction all around town, the panter whom visible patois impart incula.

Peace peace, O Amor.

Let her brave the storm.

Let him do a deed of daring.