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Vincent Katz

Three poems



I don’t regret anything,
tonight. The rain
purifies my soul.


Today is a fresh day.
I have no sins.


What could you have asked?
An answer quick as love.

The Regattas at Sainte-Adresse

to Guto

Oh, we’ll walk along the shore,
you in a brand-new black collar,
me in spats a top hat and cane,
and we’ll turn both our collars

to the wind, to shore, where
savage waves may pound
the stones and gentlemen push
their mistresses landward

but we’ll keep on to the point
of exhaustion almost, only
you’ll lead me on, barking that
we’ve only a few kilometers

more, until the sun begins
to spill its diamonds onto
the sea and I’ll remember
lunch kimonos gimcrack!

Ah, Guto, all this is paltry
but you’ll be there somewhere
leading me on, as I am called
to guide those near me now.


When you take a name upon
yourself that name becomes you
but its meaning is emptied
you should never say “because”
when walking down a crowded
street urchins may come hit you
with refusing to stay or sink
their pleasurable games in dusk
you cite idiocies and charm derides
impulse you go on chattering
cold yet warm inside the mind
weakest orange light clings on
clothing you thought last week
would protect an urging slight

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