Thursday, July 8, 2010

House of Wits

Words taken from House of Wits by Paul Fisher

He mentioned

that he recollected vividly

visiting dusky churches

bursting with Rome,

scented with the danger

of the most accomplished women.

Thoroughly enjoying the grand

language of steep roofs

the timeless cultivation of

loving.

Alice, In late spring

partly out of favoritism and partly

out of the infancy of incompetence.

He would have stung if

she had worried

if she hadn’t already blamed

the younger Mary James’s

in Paris

where “one must dine somewhere

and I sometimes

dine in company.”

(or otherwise took her life,

an early version of a woman)

Have a toast to London

luxuries. A festering

sore on Justice,

the bride.

Harry’s and Alice’s absences

from the wedding though

speak volumes.

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