by phillipw | Dec 18, 2019 | LO, RO
A sonnet found hanging from an Ilex, and inscribed “The Baron Cosimo Piovasco di Rondò to Viola, Duchess Tolemaico” Translated by Phillip Whidden for CRS Leave-taking A tree fell in the forest of my heart But made numb silence...
by phillipw | Dec 18, 2019 | KI
The Memory of Your Mouth The memory of your mouth still makes a wound Where lips now hollow once were crushed with lust. Your tongue and teeth that savaged like a hound Have left a scar-like gap and taste of rust Where feral kisses set their mark and had Their...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | AS
Mild Music of the Spheres …………Ye meaner beauties of the night …………..That poorly satisfy our eyes …………More by your number than your light ……………You common...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | RI
10, rue de Buci The naked Rimbaud liked to show his prick To chambermaids across the rue. He peeled His clothes off and bestrode the roof, his thick Hair being his complete attire, a field Above is scalp, a thick patch down below. An outfit “mythological” is...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | ID
Stolen Identity ‘Every being seemed to me to be entitled to several other lives.’ — Rimbaud, ‘Délires,’ Une Saison en Enfer Won’t someone please assist me by stealing My identity? I’m sick of it. Friends And...
