Moosiluake strikes again, this time with an airborne and sentient man-loaf. He writes: "Although some of us are driven to seek an end to mystery, like David Lehman when he waxes nostalgic over the desire to, 'solve the mystery of bloodshot eyes,' (cocaine) or Whitman moaning and groaning over that 'maternal mystery, the seminal milk' (need I translate?), I think a little mystery is nice. Especially right around the holidays. Especially with a cookie and a glass of milk. Seminal milk.
In lieu of a proper name, I'm enclosing a photo of myself dressed up as one of Mr. Ashbery's poems. This photo was taken directly after the mugwumps emerged, tentatively, from the booby hatch. The line illustrated is, of course, 'For the loaf/of bread that turns in the night sky over Stockholm' in his 'The Gods of Fairness.'"