“Talkin’ jivey, poison ivy…”

Someone recently asked me if I thought gargoyles get bored. Spend a morning with the three-headed dog on the south transept, and then you tell me.


A martyr
sees saints circumambulate smarter
while legates who pult at the wall

A yeoman
scabs each sanguinarial omen
while canons for ungilded stone

A maiden
with sopp’d weialálas is laden
while posers who fish for the ring

A traitor
spins Fortune against her creator
while cold consolation reveals

A seeker
finds calxiform beacons burn bleaker
while knaves see the weary-all thorn

A fogey
dares cymricize non-mabinogi
while teardrops round wasting Mac Cool

A quester
lets pentacled purities fester
while gomish virídescent axe

A hero
rounds duodenáry to zero
while Argonauts freighted to fail

A phony
maraunders in blind Laestrygóny
while fesseries dredge to exhume

A ptotic
turns thlebrous Caváfy demotic
while Sclepius hectors his snake

A portal
makes polycephálics immortal
while rhymers who rage in the dark

(For all the entries in this series, hit the “looking up” tab, or read the gargoyle FAQ.)

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