The Genius, l’enfant terrible
“that inability to look before or after” ~ Arthur Symons
Paul held this genius greater than the size
His poet lover had. Paul’s larger gift,
A knack for living in tight blinks of eyes,
Ignoring past and future, made each rift
Which he endured an agony just for
An hour, and then he flopped along to find
Another moment and another shore.
He had a child prodigy’s flair to blind
Himself to other people’s pain. He’d dash
Himself against his unhappiness, say
Adieu to self-control, and then he’d lash
Out. Yesterday was gone. He had today
And all its pleasures, large and small—that drink
Of absinthe, pretty moods, and boys who stink.