Quintus Horatius Flaccus

Quintus Horatius Flaccus

The Literary Prisoner of Rome
will find an audience once more.

Hey you, set the book on the table
and turn off the light.
Now go open the door
and let the madman in.
The darkening abyss joins two abstracts
and envelops the Knowing and Nothing.
The metamorphosis of this madman
defines 2000 years of antiquity:
"Words fit for eternity to read."
But modern readers dream
and their eyes fall from the page.
A touch of reality has splintered the illusion.
Fiction or nonfiction--no difference.
Every poet pens darkness and horror.
So the devil took your poems
to charm the mind with poetic seduction.
The pale-faced lover, drained of blood,
from soul to thought, a bloodless thing that lives on.

The madman in the book.
The madman on the page.
The madman at the door
lives in the imagination.
What liquid pool
drowns the imagination?It is the color of wine,
and we will pour your Latin
into our goblets of English,
drop by drop, and then
into the hero's grave.
The deepest, darkest Well
from the watery depths of Hell.

Yes, the gods are wise
for abandoning the madman,
and laughing so all the world can hear.
Like you,
we stand on the shoulders of Giants--
a Balance--for mortal men, gone mad.

                                   from "Whistling Past the Graveyard"