Rage fuels the taut tendons Pulsing contempt As he slays each pathetic competitor. Past the dragging herd— Ankles streaked with oil, raw knees, Thighs like giant oars spearing the air— He sails forth A body cultivated and primed. He rejects all costumes,… Read more
Cypresses for Greg Nagy Slim shadows, ragged, slightly deformed, not tall, they were green young athletes once, who, lacking physique and horse-sense, killed themselves when they jumped on the turn in the chariot-race. And now they wait for the ferry, puzzling where between life and death they… Read more
Ma voix aigre et fausse… P. Verlaine I’m telling you with utter Openness: All’s sheer fancy, sherry-frenzy, Dearest. Where earlier to a Hellene Beauty shone, There dark holes exposed to me A deep shame. Ancient Greeks… Read more
