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 For those who go by his tentmaker’s rope

			swing from one end to the other
		though neither low nor too high
						nothing will pass you by
if you swing not to the end of your tether

Let the tavern-keeper yell
						 no legs past his dream threshold
					will wander before old Khayyam’s knell
accept at last your unwanted vow
			no damsel will crash into cleft-stick cuckold
sweep away celibacy 
				      	take your heart in tow


Is there talk of  yes  who may be chosen
		what role could your pain fill in bold		
	letters which you’d rather see in numbers broken

Come away  come away    from all this quarrel
	Let those who wish to be weighed in gold
    make much of their worth par rapport
         à l’infidel
 
June 5, 1997

From the privately pub. coll. (rev. 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris:1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016

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