WEBVTT

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"Valediction for Rimbaud."

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"In hell, a pen races
off, running away,

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I suspect, from
Verlaine's fevered scalp.

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The lamp post light
thickens for morphine,

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eyes fall to the floor
where they stare up at me.

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The wine poured by the boys.

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You, who can charm us for just
a day, are about to leave again.

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From each new corner, new
opportunities glow like Bedouin

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campfires.

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I see you are in a hurry.

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If we forget everything,
we should at least

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scoop out the leaves
from the toxic pools.

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Those poets, who hesitate,
believe in an everlasting life.

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But where would you look
for our pen that flies,

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except in those
memories of hell?

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Cutting now our child
ties to childhood."

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