Let’s Fandango

I dance eyes closed and wordlessly

With strangers who are you and me

I dance little days little hours little breaths

The way you take a little exercise

I dance with hoodlums who steal my grammar

On behalf of winter-stained grackles

I dance insufficiently with the sun in some

Very beautiful countries

I dance officiously with the abbot of unreason

Who rides a dandy-horse into the dizzying void

I dance the presentment of Englishry

While playing tickly-benders on thin ice

I dance on the stool of repentance

Forswearing impetuous flames of book-burnings

I dance with the ghosts of drunk sailors

Carousing on ice-bound ships

I dance where the williwaw blows

Frigidly down the mountainous coast

I dance on Tom Tiddler’s verbicidal ground

Loudly proclaiming the thinghood of the thunderbox

I dance like a gerund-grinder and grammaticaster

Majestically flapping my bingo wings

I dance joyless jimjams and flagrant flamfews

Peevish gewgaws and ornery hogen-mogens

I dance foregleams of the fire-flag

Hints of nocked arrows and chambered rounds

I dance the sockdologer of the thunderclap

With outward-sainted poets and politicians

I dance the lost cursive called moon-glade

Also known as the quiddity of estranghelo

I dance on the serendipitous tint of starlit water

The tintinnabulous glint of silent bells

I dance enwollowed in the mud of memory

Drenched in desire’s dark ooze

I dance in the tree-chamber of childhood

With the recollected echo of a yikkering squirrel

I dance without the winter inwit of the Inuit

I dance inviolable involutions nonetheless

I dance I dance 

I dance a terpsichorean rhythm

So you will dance with me