Eshleman's Homage to Césaire


Facing the tidal wall of world revolution roaring with evaporation

Humankind does not change, we only break more stolid

Sinister dove with its sprig of belladonna

Humankind on the shore whipped by the bony foam of the Milky Way

What’s our secret? We adore violence like a jaguar drunk on rusted nails

Orgastic potent killers / impotent decent people

The mother table loaded with bliss at the head of which eyeless Death

Starvation for the child born on an autumnal leaf

Ink caterpillar stymied before the chrysalis of graves

Waterspout of the inseparable interlocking of matter with its spiritual grist

Skeletal trumpet through which coils the lamprey labia of your natal elation.

Clayton Eshleman
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  1. JforJames says:

    I like you blog. It’s on my milk run. But Eshleman’s poem is about as far away from a true praise poem as you can get. The last line is a real howler.

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