The Re-echo Club: as by Robert Browning (Cubist Nude)

Who will may hear the Staircase story told;
All its blobs, splotches, facets,--what you will;
The vague Nude, compassed murkily about
With ravage of six long sad hundred stairs,
Dizzily plunging with tumultuous glee!
Whirling the stairdust, hazarding oblique,
The moon safe in her pocket! See she treads
Cool citric crystals, fierce pyropus stone;
While crushing sunbeams in a triple line
Smirk at the insane roses in her hair,
And Strojavacca, frowning, looks asquint
To see that trick of toe,--that dizened heel,--
As she, the somewhat, hangs 'twixt naught and naught.
A perfect Then,--a sub-potential Now--
A facile and slabsided centipede.