Friday, April 29, 2016


Though they live a few blocks apart
St. Jerome rarely sees
El Greco's. A few times a year
They lunch at the Harvard Club.
Caravaggio's saints tend to be fit,
Even buff. His powerful old Jerome
Could probably juggle engine blocks
While El Greco's looks as if a breeze
Could carry him aloft if sadness
Didn't ballast him. Caravaggio's
Is a man of means. El Greco's lives rough
And sleeps in a doorway on
Seventh Avenue
Years go by in which he never speaks.

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