Frères humains qui après nous vivez,
Soon they’ll have the speed freak twisting
On a scaffold, soon the birds
Will come to peck out his eyes, & when
He’s too weak & exhausted to turn
His head away, they’ll do it, too,
They’ll peck his eyes right out.
You’ll want to watch it happen, you’ll want
To witness it. You’ll want to see Paolo
And Francesca almost touch before
They’re swept away again, him in one line
Waiting for rations, her in another one,
Both of them naked, standing there,
Cock & nipples shriveled in the cold.
Frères humains qui après nous vivez,
N’ayez les cœurs contre nous endurcis.
In wind & rain, the lovers almost touch,
And gulls & ravens settle on his shoulders.
You watch because you love to watch.
In plague times, the streets fill with voyeurs.
I know. The sockets of my eyes are dry
As little thimbles made of blistered skin,
And that inward savor of the infinite
Is salt again, one wave hidden in another.
We’re broken buttons, we’re blown dust.
There’s not one tear left in all of us.
I know, for I am François Villon, murderer,
Thief: pustules, blisters, triumphing sores,
Your disappearing likeness on the cross!
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