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I'm putting together a cento to read at the Poetry Project's New Year's Day Marathon (come! it'll be great! starts at 2 goes on till 150 poets have read/performed), & I remembered this one, which I wrote long before Rodriguez's troubles began. I don't even remember why this was for him, I guess his name sounded appropriate, like a Greek column. I mean, I don't remember ever loving him.

A Cento from the Greek Anthology

Let no mortal even seek to be a god
O blessed man
If I love boys, what is that to the muses of Helidon?
May Dio warm this your horn, that hits its target well
The fine sturdy Heracles club laments because it is polluted by your shoulders
This thing, which before stayed unbending, is now flabbier than a boiled carrot
Ever may the ivy that adorns the stage dance with soft feet over thy polished monument
Tears, the last gift of my love
A little dust of the earth is enough for me
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