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Issue 10 - A Journal of Letters and Life
Poesy
Roman Poems
by John Harris

Author's Links
Caravaggio's Self-Portrait

That sexy
un-beautiful fat face
with the raggedy hair
and beard...

frowning
he gazes
at the saint being martyred
in a tumult
of angels
recoiling men
and boys...

a hunk in a diaper
wields a sword

while the artist
looks on
from the background

passive

semi-involved

murderous



A Self-Portrait by Artemesia Gentileschi

A Baroque self-portrait
by a woman, a woman!--
surprised,
I didn't get it at first.

Her head's thrown back,
contemptuous.

One hand firmly grasps a palette,
the other holds a brush

and the portrait she's painting--
so close to her face--
looks like a
red-lipped, bearded man
who's about to kiss her.

See, she seems to be haughtily saying,
Pygmalion in reverse:
Galatea's bringing
a sexy man to life.



Bernini: Apollo and Daphne

They're both so pretty.

But she's having none of it--

in fact,
in her desperation,
she's willed herself into
bark, into startling leaves.

Her mouth is open in panic--
a kind of orgasm.

The carver's voluptuous talent
is fearful:

it makes her come.



Caravaggio: Eros Triumphant

A merry lad,
he's just emerged
from between tempstuous sheets.

He still seems
moist and flushed,
he's happily tipsy
with complete violation.

Even his wings
are bedraggled,
a little sleazy.

He's smiling,
he's happy,
he's ready to have
another go.

Come on,
he says,
all rosy invitation.

It doesn't hurt.

Or only a little.



In Rome

Do all these German honeymooners
go back to their hotels
and hump all night?

I hope so!

They're hot from the Villa Borghese--
they've been crammed in with
those rosy rumps,
those floret-nipples,
those man-cracks
and sagging, wrinkled scrotums--

and now
they're eager
to fuck new life
into being.

I hope a crop of
their roseate babies
will save the world--
save me!--
the shambling old man
with his gray pubic hair,
his tricky back,
his tears.



Carvaggio: The Madonna dei Palafrenieri

A haggard, scary Anne
looks on

as her majestic daughter
squashes a coiling serpent.

Mary's son
places his foot on hers.

Naked,
he's shown in raking light:
his little peepee
casts a prominent shadow.

Peepee and snake
are in evil proximity:
as she grinds the snake
underfoot, Mom seems
with calm triumph
to say

This is what we do
with dicks

while the snake

like any penis
worthy of the name

drips venom.



Bernini: The Rape of Proserpina


Look at his face:
he's having fun.
She, with her marble tears,
is not.

He hoists her
while she squirms:
look from behind at his
powerful, twisting ass.

Poor girl.

Fucked by that sexy monster
for six months straight,
as rigid as his trident,
tossed on the ground.

Then, at last,
she emerges,

out to the
open air.

A fluttering cherub touches her
with one pink finger.

Oh, how she comes.

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