Who's gonna get this
clever
new book,
this little book I just
polished dry
with pumice?
You are, Cornelius.
For you deemed
—even then,
when you
(alone of the
Italians) dared
to document
our whole age on
a meagre three
pages
...
learned pages
...
...
labour-intensive pages—
my nothings somethings.
For this reason, have
this whatever
of a book;
maybe (please my
guardian virgin)
it'll hang
around for
not a few
years.
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