116. aspires an a priori anything

yonder sheep, by gods remotely,

set about the pasture, slowly,

when one makes the edge of it,

it is shoved back to the middle

because the charming mountains meet

the border of this meadow sweet

(ok, now, this just got soppy —

get back to the real life story)

glow-worm ghost, a sheep of sorts

(he used to be, but now he floats),

roams what’s but a chess-board plain

(the gods have make his flock a game)

though he’s dead (he had been slaughtered),

he has come back to re-conquer

lambs who’ve had their freedom lost

and become the pawns of gods

a speak, a spade, and some so badly,

these are those the gods have blandly

placed in peril, sacrificing,

to protect the ewe, irene

the blacks are baddies, bolsheveskis,

crows and ravens, starlings stepping,

pulled on wires by under-earthing

moles who set the strategizing

glow-worm ghost was once a rook,

but because he just once took

a step out of the side-ways path,

he was shipped for cutlets sent

now he wants to set them free

from this endless pasture game —

but, because it’s matched so even

you can bet it won’t be easy

a speak, a spade are listening

(they are soon to get a clipping),

irene, although, is much less willing,

with her furs and fancy wigging

the trick is to confuse the greats, and

get them to undress the lady —

the king, he’s just a painted rock

that the ghost had had switched out

once the queen is toppled, then,

the sheep can start up scattering,

but they’ll have to keep watch out

for the squeeze play from the dogs


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