by phillipw | Jan 19, 2020 | RI, VE
Illuminations, 35 Howland Street No more than just a single, husk-like room, Their cube in Howland Street became the place Where greatness found inception, found its womb. While huddling in this bolthole from disgrace, Paul wrote adagios, pale Romances sans Paroles,...
by phillipw | Jan 19, 2020 | LO, RI
L’Amour: The Sonnet Rimbaud Would Have Written If He Had Demon Possessed Paul Verlaine It’s less than breaths of shadows from a ghost. It’s farther than the farthest seashore of The most remote black planet. It’s the most Sought after of the hopes of women. Love....
by phillipw | Jan 19, 2020 | RI, VE
On a Leash Rimbaud remarked, “Dogs are liberals,” to Gastineau, the Mautés’ loving dog. A “doll-faced” time bomb ticked away with blue, Blue eyes, light blue and deep, until the fog Of future London filled that Paris home. He was an Ostrogothic army in...
by phillipw | Jan 19, 2020 | DE, EX, SL
The Refugee Camp, the Deepest Coastline, the Mortuary The mother of the little ones who died Must fall to drowsiness like all the rest Of us. Her bleeding sorrow has not dried Out yet, but sleepiness will have its jest With agony, no matter what. Our eyes Close,...
by phillipw | Jan 19, 2020 | ID, SE
That Sumptuous Look A smile like God’s perfume implied that…what? That in behind it was vanilla love, Or fragrance like a diamond so cut That only what is perfect from above Could be its meaning. It refracted all The colors of the one ideal and smelled...
