Ode to Bacon
Those faces, blurred and smudged
as if an artist’s finger had passed
over the surface of the paper.
What horrors lurk inside your psyche
so that you see the world in this way?
You gazed at the carcasses of your friends
and perceived nothing but open
wounds bleeding their lifeblood like
so much waste in a refuse dump. Or
like sides of beef hung from meat hooks
in a slaughterhouse; the screaming pope in
his throne of thorns, which you thought
You could do better than the Greek from
more by SERGIO REMON ALVAREZ
extra: Francis Bacon