{While researching a historic sonnet I came across a black and white photo of the docks. A horse and wagon, only one of several, was blurred as it had violated shutter speed. I think of that photo whenever someone says that digitisation is
a great threat to the notion the whole of human history can be reduced to two or three dictators in black and white portraiture in L--- magazine.}
a study toward sonnet #130 by FisherKingKQJ
The figure of the gondola appeared
A diamond edged glass cutter. A long meow
Left two queers in feline Gagna masks. They leered
At a dashing man from their cofano.
We wore Bauta masks white button nosed po.
Now dusk, the rio and ramis we reneged,
We bounced onto the stone quay from the prow.
In Florian's bacaro we were intrigued
By the finicky tall waiter who'd segued
Through crushed ice water into a goblet
By means of a riddle, the chilled drops leagued
At bottom with amber toned anisette.
The mouth holes perverted and mixed our speech:
His kisses tasted prosecco with peach.
{3D interactive chorus:}
His kisses tasted prosecco with peach.
His kisses tasted prosecco with apricot.
His kisses tasted prosecco with nectarine.
[ll1, 13 14 corrected for rhythm. No change to content.
17/9/05.]