I. – He must have hopped. How else could he have come
—–out, as they tell us, with his hands and feet
—–bound? and the loud voice ordering the winding-sheet
—–to be dismantled, and the residuum
—–of grief being wiped away? We live with this
—–clown of a body, Brother Ass. We wipe
—–the faeces off, douche down the dirt, eat ripe
—–and rotting, twitch, foam, hose off the sarin gas
—–and love the body’s love, would not not be
—–this blessèd goof, this rotter, this cadavre
—–we come to, or perchance if you are Lazar-
—–us hop from: kid in a gunny sack. Let me
—–be the first to say ‘I am content’. Not as Shylock meant it
—–but laughing goofing glad, sick morbid glad, the lot: contented.

II.– He must have hopped. How else could he have come
—–out, as they tell us, with his hands and feet
—–bound? and the loud voice ordering the winding-sheet
—–to be dismantled, and the residuum
—–of grief being wiped away? He reassumes this
—–beast of a burden, Brother Ass. Some spec-
—–ulate he’d rather have stayed dead, the thick
—–of things being a bit thick, now all this fuss,
—–and trouble brewing. Ever obstinate,
—–the body (re)turns to bite the psyche’s heel.
—–Yet without body, psyche’s zilch. Not real.
—–Without half-dormant psyche, body’s not.
—–Tissued together, rising’s sink or swim
—–for both of them or neither, thick or thin.

III.–He must have hopped. How else could he have come
—–out, as they tell us, with his hands and feet
—–bound? and the loud voice ordering the winding-sheet
—–to be dismantled, and the residuum
—–of death being hauled away? We live out this
—–bounder, the body, Brother Ass. Your death,
—–my darling, teaches me each day. That breath
—–should be your undoing! Well. Your corpse’s gliss-
—–ando off the bed, later down the stairs
—–scarcely restrained by gentlemen almost as elderly
—–as yourself, goofy in their incapacity
—–to execute with grace these final cares,
—–and me too, Sister Ass: I willingly learn
—–from daily, will wear, like your name, our orn-
—–eriness as badge of honour, till I adjourn.