The idiosyncratic poet and cabaret performer Maurice Mac-Nab had a short but appreciated career in Paris in the 1880s. He was known for his deadpan delivery and limited vocal range; it was said of him that he could sing only three notes, but each was flawless. My translation of his poem “The Fetuses” is a paraphrase respecting the formal constraints of the original: tercets that alternate masculine and feminine rhymes. It’s rather long; here’s the beginning of it.

THE FETUSES
(Maurice Mac-Nab, 1886)

Some large, some little, some bizarre,
And some quite normal, here they are,
Each in its own transparent jar.

You see a few who, smiling sweetly,
Hands laid across their bellies neatly,
Were born into the world discreetly.

And then again, some seem to jeer,
Their gaze aloof and cavalier,
Although with eyes that will not clear.

And then still others, folded double,
Appear alarmed that you might trouble
Their blissful alcoholic bubble.

Their faces may look dissolute,
Their bodies soft as rotten fruit,
But still, the fetuses are cute,

As they rock gently in aquatic
Security, serene, phlegmatic,
So tranquilly aristocratic.

And notice every little nose,
As swollen as a blooming rose:
From all the drinking, I suppose.

For barred from glory, love, or choosing
Whatever makes our lives amusing,
They pass their days in constant boozing…

The Best of Le Scat Noir is now available! It collects memorable gems from the online journal edited by the ebullient Norman Conquest, in a large, full-color trade paperback. I have a number of pieces in it, as do many others, to wit: Paulo Brito, Paul Kavanagh, Erik Satie, Samuele Bastianello, Alice Pulaski, Pink Buddha, Yuriy Tarnawsky, Jason E. Rolfe, Eckhard Gerdes, Harold Jaffe, Tom Whalen, Darlene Altschul, Madalina Tantareanu, Sheila Pell, Samantha Memi, Opal Louis Nations, Alphonse Allais, Francisque Sarcey, Carla M. Wilson, Terri Lloyd, Mercie Pedro e Silva, Georges Hugnet, Norman Conquest, Paul Rosheim, Carol White, Michael Leigh, Nile Southern, Mantis Man, Tom Bussmann, Edward Lear, Mark Axelrod, Adao Iturrusgaral, Jim Johnson, Rick Krieger, Pippa Anais Gaubert, Rebecka Skog, Frank Pulaski, Jim McMenamin, Gail Schneider, Franciszka Themerson,  Raymond Queneau, Georges Perec, Italo Calvino, Tom La Farge, Theodore Carter, Nick Frost, Farewell Debut, Quixote, Robin Wyatt Dunn, Allan Bealy, Angela Pankosky, Brett Stout, Uwe Taubert, Iacyr Anderson Freitas, Desiree Jung, Andy Koopmans, Jim Meirose,  Russell Helms, Peter Payack, Adrienne Auvray, Gelett Burgess, and Eugene Ivanov.

You can find it at Black Scat Books!

A cheerful little song about antisociality. I often performed it in the ’90s, with Carol Benner playing a lively pizzicato obbligato on viola.

From a projected book of my verse, here’s a translation of a song by the surprisingly prolific Jules Jouy (1855-1897). The problem was to translate the lyrics as closely as possible, within the original meter and rhyme scheme. It’s a paraphrase, but (I think) comes closer to the original than a literal rendering could.

THE FUNCTIONARIES
(Jules Jouy, 1888)

The man, retiring for the night,
His mellow candle brightly shining,
Inspects the blankets for the sight
Of insects, faithful to the lining.
He beats the bedding, on and by
The corners, where the bedbug tarries.
He massacres, with practiced eye,
A multitude of functionaries.

The woman, baring all her curves,
Explores, with resolute precision,
Her skin, where, sampling his hors d’oeuvres,
A flea lies just outside her vision.
She scans her faultless silhouette
With many muttered commentaries.
Upon her beauty, the coquette
Is hunting for the functionaries.

The toddler shakes his golden locks,
And lifts his hand to scratch within,
For that is where elusive flocks
Parade across his tender skin.
The toddler, with a nervous air,
Complains about his “adversaries,”
And in his thick and curly hair,
He fattens up the functionaries.

Another piece from my student days: a jaunty march for nine instruments, or some combination thereof, made up of ostinati. I performed it a few times back then, especially as a string quartet. Here’s the title page, flute part, and oboe part:

This piece for violin and piano, in a slightly different form, originally served as the overture for “Harlequin and His Master Wed,” the second half of Bill Irwin’s show The Harlequin Studies, produced by the Signature Theater in 2003. I eliminated the drum part, and came up with a shorter title.

My version of the Faust legend is 152 lines, in tetrameter couplets alternating masculine and feminine rhymes. It has a cheerier ending than most; Faust and the Devil get drunk, become friends, and open a bar together. Here’s how it begins. I’ll cut it off before we get to the sex magick.

Perhaps you’ve heard of Johann Faust,
Who got in Dutch when he got soused.
Young Johann was a model student,
Punctilious, humble, pious, prudent,
Who did his work and paid his debts,
Which got him what that often gets.
And so the starving boy’s ambition
Provoked him to become magician;
But, sad to say, his charms and spells
Raised nothing but unpleasant smells.
So, one night as he sipped his Rhenish,
And tipped the bottle to replenish
The sweet intoxicating wine
The vintners make along the Rhine,
He vowed to frame an invocation
Obscene enough to earn damnation…

Drawn from Black Scat’s eight editions of the master French absurdist, this compendium is a sublime introduction to the wordplay and black humor that shocked and dazzled Bohemian Paris in the raucous “Banquet Years.” The READER includes the celebrated pataphysical text “A Thoroughly Parisian Drama”–a favorite of both André Breton and the Oulipians–as well as stories, plays, an excerpt from his only novel, and the classic exploits of Captain Cap and Francisque Sarcey. The translator, Doug Skinner, has added notes and an illuminating introduction.

Available on Amazon; more info at Black Scat Books.

Here, for the holidays, is a song about the many sterling qualities of Santa Claus. It’s also the only song I’ve written in Italian. It begins:

Babbo Natale pranza in letto.
Babbo Natale balla sul tetto.
Babbo Natale evita le frotte.
Babbo Natale viaggia di notte.

Santa Claus eats in bed.
Santa Claus dances on the roof.
Santa Claus avoids crowds.
Santa Claus travels by night.

I was happy to be part of “The Jim Turner Smorgasbord of Koo Koo,” a benefit for Manhattan’s Dixon Place, which took place at Dixon Place on Dec. 1, 2018. The lineup included Jim Turner, naturally, as well as David Felton, Mark Fite, Dale Goodson, Toby Huss, and 2 Headed Dog.

I sang five of my songs: “A Different Point of View,” “Little Two-Headed Kitten,” “James,” “Peepee Caca Fucky Fuck,” and “Ptooey.” The audience was large and enthusiastic, and Dixon Place made some money.