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Mnemnosyne's issues

O' fucked-on day, calu, calei,
Under Mnemosyne's fraught, fractious sway,
Of liminal tounges and twisting knots,
Over brain and liver's bileous draughts.

O' sacred day, calu, calot,
Fine issue of good Thalia's what,
Fey, screaming child of that holy urn,
That we all the joke so promptly learn.

O' dusk of day, calu, calai,
Gave Erato's cloying song the lie,
Split hair and gut with fine refrain;
What use of that what puts in twain?


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