And it's because something of the mundanely manual still adheres to darts that the players' heroic walk of honour from the green room to the oche is so incongruous. The fanfare begins, the strobes go wild, the crowds roar, hostesses wearing the sort of tinsel dresses that drove me crazy when I was eighteen escort the gladiator into the arena, only he's not a gladiator, he's a plumber.

Here, too, are the same associations of old and new as, in “the sole irrhythm,” he describes his woman’s long neck and proud nose as “the way i always wanted/that pharaohess to me / to be hawk boned,” and then is ashamed “at what my god has done / to dam and hurt this nile.”

or out of these chaoses order may be made, out of this ferment a clear wine of life. There are chaoses that have gone too far for retrieval

[…] the constitutional structure of separation of powers thus limits the federal courts' power to lawmake on their own.