Chit Chatter Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

I say free of fences, my words remain,
Cantankerously versing all the same,
On crow-stepped gables I beg to stay,
One more evening merry and gay.

To his mercy I deceitfully proclaim,
Utter joy that willfully plays,
An indigenous Güegüense that always appeases,
the crown of castile which never pleases.

Undercast thespians frolic,
Raising their rumps in gesture,
with pitchfork at hand,
they pierce the corposant,
That spar the laws of nature.

For St. Elmos Fire weans,
Hanging from lateens,
As the caravel drifts unseen,
sinking towards horizon.

Yet the skies tarry on,
As my confabulations shoal home,
Whirling with cadence this vernal spring,
Beneath the equinoctial gale.

The chimney stands,
For the winds have spoken,
Granting freedom from this gable.