This is a poem in an eccentric form which I've
used several times, a pantoum.
It's in four line stanzas.
And in the second stanza the second and fourth lines
of the first stanza become the first and third line
of the second stanza.
That perfectly clear?
[LAUGHTER]
And so on until the end of the poem
when you use the first and third lines of the first stanza
that you never used before.
So each line is repeated twice eventually.
And that's-- you get twice as much poem for your effort.
[LAUGHTER]
This one is in four sections.
It's called "Hotel Lautréamont," named after the 19th century
proto surrealist French writer who uses a nickname or the pen
name Lautréamont, wrote the rather ghoulish epic the Song
of Maldoror, which I recommend to you if you haven't read it.
It's been translated several times in English.
"Hotel Lautréamont."
"One.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of society
working as a team.
They didn't just happen.
There was no guesswork.
The people then knew what they wanted and how to get it.
We see the results and works as diverse
as Windsor Forest and The Wife of Usher's Well.
Working as a team, they didn't just happen.
There was no guesswork.
The horns of elfland swing past and in a few seconds
we see the results in works as diverse as Windsor Forest
and The Wife of Usher's Well.
Or on a more modern note in the finale of the Sibelius violin
concerto.
The horns of elfland swing past and in a few seconds
the world as we know it sinks into dementia proving narrative
essay or in the finale of the Sibelius's violin concerto.
Not to worry, many hands are making work light again.
The world as we know it sinks into dementia
proving narrative passe.
In any case, the ruling was long overdue.
Not to worry, many hands are making work light
again so we stay indoors.
The quest was only another adventure too.
In any case, the ruling was long overdue.
The people are beside themselves with rapture
so we stay indoors.
The quest was only another adventure
and the solution problematic at any rate far off in the future.
The people are beside themselves with rapture yet
no one thinks to question the source of so much
collective euphoria.
And the solution problematic, at any rate far off in the future.
The saxophone wails, the martini glass is drained,
yet no one thinks to question the source of so much
collective euphoria.
In troubled times.
one looked to the shaman or priest for comfort and counsel.
The saxophone wails, the martini glass is drained
and night like black swandowns settles on the city.
In troubled times, one looked to the shaman or priest
for comfort and counsel.
Now, only the willing are fated to receive death
as a reward and night like black swansdown
settles down the city.
If we tried to leave would being naked help us?
Three.
Now only the willing are fated to receive death as a reward.
Children twist hula hoops imagining a door
to the outside.
If we tried to leave, would being naked help us?
And what of older lighter concerns?
What of the river?
Children twist hula hoops imagining a door
to the outside when all we think of
is how much we can carry with us and what of older lighter
concerns?
What of the river?
All the behemoths have filed through the maze of time.
When all we think of is how much we can carry with us,
small wonder that those at home sit nervous by the unlit grate.
All behemoths have filed through the maze of time.
It remains for us to come to terms with our commonality.
Small wonder that those at home sit nervous by the unlit grate.
It was their choice after all that spurred us
to feats of the imagination.
It remains for us to come to terms with our commonality,
and in so doing deprive time of further hostages.
Four.
It was their choice after all it spurred us
to feats to the imagination.
Now, silently as one mounts a stair we emerge into the open
and in so doing deprive time of further hostages
to end the standoff that history long ago began.
Now silently as one mounts a stair, we emerge into the open
but it is shrouded, veiled.
We must have made some ghastly error
to end the standoff that history long ago began.
Must we thrust ever onward into perversity?
But it is shrouded, veiled.
We must have made some ghastly error.
You mop your forehead with a rose,
recommending its thorns must be thrust
ever onward into perversity.
Only night knows for sure.
The secret is safe with her.
You mop your forehead with a rose, recommending its thorns.
Research has shown that ballads were
produced by all of society.
Only night can say for sure the secret is safe with her.
The people then knew what they wanted and how to get it."
That is not a very commonly used form
but there is a poem by Baudelaire one
of his greatest poems called Harmony Du Soir,
which is a pantoum.