Sunday 1 July 2018

Marsiya of an Ottoman typewriter.



To think Thy 'I' could be typed by a key stroke crude
& with a donkey kick, the machine would draw blood
From a but foolscap mirror of Ibn Masud
Whose foot is heavier than Mount Uhud

Is to know, Kufa, the scandal of thy script
Fidelity's zallakah where Zuleikha slipped
 No Joseph, her Joseph- No! not until
Father Jacob has looked his fill

As to Marsyas, would be, an Apollonian apology
Marsiya, too, is its own motivic cohomology
Of Category and Type, Writing so riven 
 Witnesses, alas!, break its but ribbon



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