### Amanita 18
Perhaps the scholars of old were too enshrined,
In titles, rituals, distinctions blind—
Unwilling to traverse the deeper thread,
Where art breathes life and mystery is fed.
Or was it sloth that dulled the scholar’s eye,
Too weary for the truths that never lie?
*
Weedgenstein:
Must we reveal what makes the artwork sing?
Is not its wonder born of the unseen?
To probe too far might break the fragile wing
That lets the spirit soar through realms between.
ZN:
Be serious, Benders—don’t let that guy in!
*
Gentlemen,
I ask you now to lift your sight,
To Botticelli’s Aphrodite bright;
In that divine and breathless pose,
The mind and flesh symphonically arose.
Let her embody, as we speak and clash,
The grace that softens fire into ash.
So let this battle of ideas unfold,
Fed by beauty, not just texts grown old.
And now, dear reader, let us turn the page,
The world is wide—the gods still tread the stage.
*
### Ambrosia as a Love Nektar
Ganymede—young and carved of dawn,
In painted jars and stone he’s drawn:
A lyre in hand, or pet cock’s crow,
A hoop he rolls in youthful flow.
But when he serves among the stars,
He pours the drink in golden jars.
Staff, cap, and cloak in sculpted grace,
The shepherd-boy held heaven’s place.
His name—“to gladden,” slyly plays—
With “knowing” flesh in doubled phrase.
To be swept up by eagle’s pride,
Then spill love’s nectar far and wide?
*
Nonnus, Dionysiaca 31.252 ff:
[Hera, spouse of Zeus, speaks in distress:]
Is it not shame enough I see
The Trojan boy pour wine freely?
A mortal lad with common hands—
Replaces Hebe where she stands!
*
Rubens—he shows the boy mid-flight,
An eagle’s claws, yet eyes like night.
*
A mosaic sings from Cyprus’ floor—
Where Dionysus walked before.
A boy aloft, with blush in cheek—
Is that a kidney, or a mushroom sleek?
*
Ganymede from Sousse in stone—
He leans and laughs as if alone.
Nonnus, Dionysiaca 39.67 ff:
Olympian nectar flowed at will
To rustic lips on Ida’s hill.
No grape-fermented liquid red—
But ambrosia by the gods was fed.
Ganymede met the deathless band,
Their banquet full, his mortal hand.
*
Triumph of Bacchus: beasts parade—
Tigers, cheetahs, all arrayed;
Ganymede straddles a lion’s praise,
While golden nectar fuels their blaze.
The cheetah laps a cup’s delight,
Stemmed like a mushroom in the night.
A party blessed by vine and bloom—
Its echoes found in Northland’s gloom.
The eagle, drink, and endless feast
Shall rise again from West to East.
*