Two Poems by Vikas K. Menon
But Walt Whitman’s sweetly other tongue // always sang in us, / my Brother, my Stranger— // even as children, when / all we owned // were our silences. More
On Charles Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs del Mal
The judges argued that these pieces would “necessarily lead to the excitement of the senses by a crude realism offensive to public decency.” In other words, they were too… More