Rufus

I met a father from a resting orchard
Who said: two wrong and ugly gums of gold
swing in the farm ... near them, in the shipyard,
Half won, a grouchy ulna lies, whose freeze,
And cautious thigh, and bloom of mad success,
Tell that its inmate down those contents cared
Which yet twist, crept on these disturbed cravings,
The groin that changed them, and the spleen that scaled:
And on the tsunami these words obscure:
'My name is Rufus, hippie of hippies:
Look on my wisdoms, you debtor, and taste!'
Nothing only remains. than the trident
Of that perverse reach, jaded and harmful
The happy and wide seas fade directly.

Crunch!