Four Poems After Baudelaire
In the good old days mutations appeared everywhere,
and every second baby was a monster.
I wish I could have lived then, neighbor
In the good old days mutations appeared everywhere,
and every second baby was a monster.
I wish I could have lived then, neighbor
Thunder unrolling over the vulnerable city,
purple and ink blue, above the huddle of workers
scrambling to commute, some to a bar where
‘We went to New York,’ Kathy said.
‘Colin was painting well then, and he was
on the edge of a breakthrough, he said.
Breakdown was more like it. He was drinking,