A LETTER FROM THE MARQUIS DE SADE
RECEIVED DURING A SÉANCE

Thank you, dear professor, for your comment on me
In your recent book, an analysis of American Values.
I was delighted by my apotheosis, thrilled
That you consider me to the true God
Of the American people, the deity
The Americans really worship-not Jesus.
I, being born in luxury, being indulgent
And wasteful, was revered by the poor.
They volunteered to serve my petty pleasures,
Went away maimed and honored.
The uncultivated man, the average citizen,
Enjoys being degraded, since he does
Not have the power to fulfill his most
Cherished desire to degrade others.
I said many years ago, if someone
Would openly flaunt degradation
As entertainment, he would become
An overwhelming popular success.
My observation has come true in America
With their rock and rap singers.
Your country made a mistake
By offering the lowly
The opportunity to be introduced to art.
The lowly must be kept ignorant
Of sensuous art, or else they might develop
Taste and desires for the complex and profound
Which would overthrow such as we,
Who benefit from exploitation of the masses.
Let them have their crude, vulgar,
Popular entertainment, for it keeps
Them in a state of stupor .
The people must be kept degenerate,
For degenerates serve us.
The producers of popular entertainment
Are our allies.

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THE SCRIBES

We have found the proper location for our endeavor,
This part of France, where there are no birds except sparrows.
Our structure must be firm, although it must have
The appearance of being loose. A suggestion was made
By our patron, the Bishop, that we have a rhythmic interplay
Of three dimensional and two dimensional surfaces.
The display would deny natural law and suggest other dimensions
Such as a Seventh Heaven. We could rely on the works of Paul,
And a quote or two from Plato on the insubstantiality of the senses.
We knew the Bishop was drunk and confused.
We were writers, and he was talking about painters.
We received other instructions, we should describe sensuality
And disguise as moral allegory. We are not very skilled
When it comes to presenting the sensual. We have not known
The sensual life of our employees, the Pope
And the hierarchy of the church. But we have no difficulty
In praising the virtues of denial and austerity.
But we will write following the orders of those in command.
Our lack of enthusiasm and interest in the project
Will prepare us to do a work that will be pleasing
To the clergy, the academics, and the public.

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DELACROIX

Delacroix would have been inspired this weekend
By an event on a Florida beach. Naked, dead Haitians
Were washed in. He could have sketched
A male foot sticking its toes in a woman's bared breasts.
With his exquisite reds, he could depict
The shark bites over the legs and down the thighs
Of the corpses. For the sake of aesthetics
And the longevity of art, he would never entitled
The painting, Dead Haitians Washed Up on a Florida Beach,
But would have given the work a title more classical:
Dante and Virgil in Hell. Baudelaire would have praised
Delacroix for his detachment and disengagement.

A FUNERAL ORATION FOR FELIX MEDDLESOME,
AN EX-PROVOST WHO UPON RETIREMENT
WAS DESIGNATED BY THE FOOLS
OF A LESS-THAN-MEDIOCRE UNIVERSITY
A "DISTINGUISHED PROFESSOR OF THE UNIVERSITY"

His manner showed dullness and simplemindedness,
And he sustained these attributes to an advanced old age.
He wrote an accepted and jejune style with complete ease.
Being inferior, he surpassed superior and original men.
He never broke the continuity of his mediocre
And ignorant life, and thus through deficiency
Became a chosen one. When in power he was always
Supported by the untalented who were ambitious
For petty power. His inferiority was strongly supported.
Like scum, he arose to the top. We could go on
And say he was an enemy of civilization and learning,
But this funereal oration for a man still alive
Is not the time for truth and honesty.

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SELF PORTRAIT WITH SASKIA

First, we must ask the dwarf
To leave the room,
This bearded dwarf who sits in the corner.
His shoes have yellow soles.
He points the yellow soles towards us.
Due to the shortness of his legs
His shoes seem to come out of his stomach.
When the dwarf leaves, I'll change your name
To Danaë. This will allow the addition
Of a shower of gold. We'll open the coffin
By the bed, take out some damask
With blackened silver threads,
Use as a curtain for me to hide behind and peep
At your nakedness.
But first, we must get the dwarf out of the room.
When we ask him to go, we must speak loudly,
For the dwarf is somewhat deaf.
We must be courteous, for the dwarf
Thinks we are the king and queen.
We cannot tell the dwarf who we are,
For he would cry.
He has come to entertain us by telling some jokes.
We'll let him tell a few jokes before he goes

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