reading right now, for the first time in surprisingly long

Baudelaire. My favorite. Almost every poem in Les fleurs du mal hits the mark.

Aside from the quality of his verse, he deserves a posthumous prize for having grasped the greatness of Poe before Americans fully did.

I still like this photo the best. In the ones where his hair is a bit longer, he looks the sort of con artist who seeks out rich widows.