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muguet
is on page 45 of 129
“Or what comes to mind is a ballerina's strange attire, whose dark, translucent gauze hints at a dazzling skirt's muted splen-dour, as a delicious past pierces the murky present; and gold and silver stars glittering on that skirt are imagination's fires, catching only when Night dons deep mourning.”
Night dawns, deep morning
— May 15, 2026 06:35PM
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Night dawns, deep morning
muguet
is on page 32 of 129
first sexy poem of spleen, #17. A Hemisphere in a Head of Hair
— May 03, 2026 07:53PM
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muguet
is on page 22 of 129
Favorite poem so far: #12, Crowds
Reminds me of Virginia Woolf’s, An Unwritten Novel: a narrator fantasizing about the life of a fellow passenger on a train, stringing out a story solely based on their own ego and assumptions, eventually smashed
“..that sainted prostitution of the soul which gives itself whole, poetry and charity, to the unforeseen revealed, to the unknown materialized.”
— Mar 29, 2026 01:24PM
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Reminds me of Virginia Woolf’s, An Unwritten Novel: a narrator fantasizing about the life of a fellow passenger on a train, stringing out a story solely based on their own ego and assumptions, eventually smashed
“..that sainted prostitution of the soul which gives itself whole, poetry and charity, to the unforeseen revealed, to the unknown materialized.”
muguet
is on page 23 of 129
“Multitude, solitude: equivalent terms for the active and prolific poet. The man unable to people his solitude does not know how to be alone in a crowd.”
“He who easily embraces the crowd knows feverish joys, for ever denied the egoist, entombed in his vault, and denied the idler, walled in like a mollusc. He purloins every profession, makes his own every delight, every misfortune he encounters.”
— Mar 28, 2026 03:27PM
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“He who easily embraces the crowd knows feverish joys, for ever denied the egoist, entombed in his vault, and denied the idler, walled in like a mollusc. He purloins every profession, makes his own every delight, every misfortune he encounters.”
muguet
is on page 23 of 129
Favorite poem so far, #12, Crowds
Reminded me a lot of Virginia Woolf’s An Unwritten Novel, about how readily we shift our perspective to fantasize how another might live, to great error and self serving.
As always: Baudelaire is a combination of relatable, wondrous, and extra egotistic
— Mar 28, 2026 03:24PM
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Reminded me a lot of Virginia Woolf’s An Unwritten Novel, about how readily we shift our perspective to fantasize how another might live, to great error and self serving.
As always: Baudelaire is a combination of relatable, wondrous, and extra egotistic
muguet
is on page 18 of 129
‘So, at last, I am allowed to sink into a bath of shadows! First, lock the door. I sense that these two turns of the key will deepen my solitude and reinforce the barricades which keep me apart from the world.’
— Mar 21, 2026 08:33AM
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muguet
is on page 3 of 129
“Who has not, in bouts of ambition, dreamt this miracle, a poetic prose, musical without rhythm or rhyme, supple and choppy enough to accommodate the lyrical movement of the soul, the undulations of reverie, the bump and lurch of con-sciousness?”
so good, so visceral, i’m so happy to pick up Baudelaire again!
— Mar 18, 2026 09:28AM
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so good, so visceral, i’m so happy to pick up Baudelaire again!











