the poetic hypnosis is too obvious (and unflattering)
it should stop with Baudelaire; you sycophant of Rimbaud
and Cavafy. (crazy ones with fire fingers)
O Poet God -- be released of it.
O Poet God -- be sated!
The medium of this craft is oil; and
blood, placenta -- assorted mucous, semen;
feces (merde)———and watercolor.
the hypnosis is in the watching -- (must be a moment
of prestidigitation, as crazy flame
animates to the corporeal, in ink.) It happens in that instant.
There is the seduction; intimate, coded and conceived.
There is the sacrifice, Poet God. Are you happy?