Leaned against chipped robins'- Egged mid-Atlantis mer-lude masque She stays selling hollow-pointed Shells beneath the seas or shores Or pins through twelve grievous Angels stacked beside flickering Onion bulbs in a cutting repast Her splintered soul is millions Of orders of magnitude steelier Than the nylon-flocked chaser Intruder, insinuater, ingratiater Some riddle for the inexperienced I wish to grow away from porticos To causative Hels such as yours