Menu

Poetry

Evident duplicity of solitude. I see these old people seated
around a table; there are at least ten of them. I could have
fun counting them, but I am sure there are at least ten of
them. And phwee! If only I could fly off to heaven, fly off
to heaven straight away!
—-As they speak they all create a cacophony in which you
can only make out a few masticated syllables, as if torn out
by teeth. My God! How difficult it is to reconcile with the
world! . . .

I have counted. There are twelve of them. Like the Apostles.
And is the waiter meant to represent Christ?

And what if I bought a Jesus T–shirt?

 

Translated from the French by Gavin Bowd

CAUTION: Users are warned that the Work appearing herein is protected under copyright laws and reproduction of the text, in any form for distribution is strictly prohibited. The right to reproduce or transfer the Work via any medium must be secured with the copyright owner.


The Image archive is supported in part by an award from the National Endowment for the Arts.

Access one piece of artwork every month for free! To experience the full archive, log in or subscribe.

Related Poetry

Stupid Praise

By

Alison Pelegrin

upward shot of the top of a large cathedral with two towers flanking the center structure, both with a turret at the very top (a steeple). the image is overlaid with light leaks of purple and red, and while the cathedral is lit by the sun, the shadows are green. it looks like the film was ruined, overexposed, or opened up, so the image is saturated with watercolor-ish colors.

Some Saint

By

Anne Pierson Wiese

The Look of Love

By

Anne Pierson Wiese

Prodigal Body

By

Judith Kunst

Pin It on Pinterest