"The Tomb of Baudelaire" and "The Point"
"The Tomb of Baudelaire" by Mallarméan incompetent translation Listen, Svengali, all the museums So here's the plan: write an essay How sketchy are cities without futility! O, Popery! El Hombre has left us deficient |
Le Tombeau de Charles Baudelaire Le temple enseveli divulgue par la bouche Ou que le gaz récent torde la mèche louche Quel feuillage séché dans les cités sans soir Au voile qui la ceint absente avec frissons |
The Point
for A, B, and C
I stood on the Point and rooted for the truth.
Everywhere were starfish angels, each one in my way.
The sun, like a drunken bum, stumbled across the sky.
If you're not any more interesting sloshed
than you are sober
then what's the point?
My model was late for her sitting. "You're like a library book—overdue!" I said,
"Then I'll take off all my clothes like I did for you last time," she said,
"and then I'll be re-nude."
If you're not any more interesting frizzled
than you are frozen
then what's the point?
"What's nubile with you, my dear?" I asked.
"That's highly salacious, you know" she said.
"Wasn't he the King of Ethiopia?" I queried.
If you're not any more interesting moist
than you are torrid
then what's the point?
"You're a piece of hot pie," I said,
"crusty with the sweet and creamy center."
"But they'll be no massacre of the General Custard this time," said she.
If you're not any more interesting polluted
than you are pristine
then what's the point?
I stood on The Point and looked out at the sea
and imagined I saw a pod of yellow whales, but that
was just the sun pissing twilight into the distant foam.
Bill Yarrow, Professor of English at Joliet Junior College, is the author of eleven books of poetry including Blasphemer and The Vig of Love. His poems have been published in Poetry International, FRiGG, Gargoyle, PANK, Confrontation, Contrary, Diagram, Thrush, Chiron Review, RHINO, and many other journals. Bill recommends Susan G. Komen for the Cure.
