This volume contains a forward by Don Juan, 56 occasional verses, and “Like a Fish”, a sequence of 22 sonnets.
A little book of verse,
Of lies, of love and folly,
Of joy, of pain and hurt;
A book in rhyme and rhythm
Like the rhythm of a song
From a sparrow landed on a thorn
Pricking through a heart.
Forthcoming from the lyrical verse series,
are Pinhead, Branches, Pepigrams, Modern Art, Serenade, and Black -Eyed Susan
Book II of “Colloquies:
A Review of Civilization in Little Songs”
Stroll the streets of Rome, see the colorful, magnificent sights, the sounds and songs of Romans, the characters, the cad, the prig, the beauty, the noble lad, the patrician and the pleb as we enjoy the holiday, the calendar of ancient, Latin festival. Listen-in to chatter, the talk, the secrets, the opinions, the chit-chat of Romans in war, in orgy, in the Senate House, and at home in prayer, in familial affection. Become again Roman, rediscover your civil and cultural heritage so long hidden in shadow: see in reading a Rome garrulous in grandeur, friendly to a visitor alike you, alike me.
Excerpts may be read, here:
Perhaps you know the story of a sculptor who from cold stone carved a woman perfect in form, in shape and minute detail. No? Well…it was like this: In ancient Cyprus, home of the beautiful, terrible Aphrodite, the sculptor, Pygmalion, created a statue of the perfect woman, Galatea, whom he desperately, impossibly loved; the rest is history, a history which you might read in Ovid’s Latin telling, or here in spirited, subtle English verse, Galatea: The Statue Comes to Life.
Here, in the Galatea, be sensually warmed by the Aegean sun, rest in the arms of foam-born Aphrodite, breathe free of Progressive tyranny of opinion, move free of the Modern corset, be Classive, be good, be beautiful, be true, and you will be at home in the body of your imagination, some three-thousand years ago.
An excerpt can be read, here:
Argument of the Book:
Some have guessed that I was gathered from around Priapos’ feet, of verses scrawled, of lines graffitied, and from inscriptions neat;
others suppose I was composed by Maeceans’ clever fellows when toasting P. in meter’d verse for bookish wit to show;
many perceive the evidence of a fancy pedigree from Martial, Ovid, Juv, Catullus, and Virgil in composing me.
Most recently my pages swell, tailing on Sir Richard Burton, as here by Curtis I’m augmented, and shortened, I’m certain.
Yet, to the point, it matters not what ere the learned source is, so long as you do practice well the lesson of my courses.
* This book is an English translation of Latin; it is erotic, not suitable to delicate readers.
In addition to being a classical poet, you have a deep background in classical arts, such as architecture, sculpture, and engraving. In a world seemingly awash in modern arts, what is the value of traditional poetry and art? Do you feel people could benefit from more exposure to such poetry and art?
The interview can be read, here:
From the Preface No one familiar with Michael Curtis would call him unexacting. His work displays a keen, critical mind, bringing beauty to the senses and banishing ugliness where he finds it. Modern Art is a playful exercise in the latter. It is a no-holds-barred declaration of war on the makers of Modern Art, using the sharpest weapon for the job: satire.
Published by The National Civic Art Society, Spring 2022