Whoroscope / Samuel Beckett
Galileo how are you
Faulhaber, Beeckman and Peter the Red,
Who's that? Hals?
My squinty doaty!
A wind of evil flung my despair of ease
So we drink Him and eat Him
In the name of Bacon will you chicken me up
No I believe every word of it I assure you.
Are you ripe at last,
The poem came with notes, of which this is my favorite:
1. Rene Descartes, Seigneur du Perron, liked his omelette made of eggs hatched from eight to ten days; shorter or longer under the hen and the result, he says, is disgusting. He kept his own birthday to himself so that no astrologer could cast his nativity. The Shuttle of a ripening egg combs the warp of his days.