Worn out today, too tired for read-along. Maybe I need a crib.

So many swings & swingsets in this poem. I am going to have to look into the science of Oscillations. There is such a thing (math, physics). Vibrations, wave theory.

Some poetry puts words through what we guitarists know as a "phaser" (a sound oscillator).

All work & no play faisent Jacques a dull garcon, however. Perhaps I should go back to advanced osculations. Sacre bleu! Mais non.

well, what do you think. whacko stuff, that last bit, huh? makes me think of a wind tunnel, or distortion of some kind, fuzz pedal, wah-wah, phaser. makes you long for something simple, clear, serene.

something spinning on its own axis : curled around a wave, like the word "narcissist".

Nabokov saw colors in letters. I hear strange things in syllables.