Cut-ups, series 1.4

Paul Verlaine, on left, and Arthur Rimbaud.

law— The hard life,
Howling beneath the leaves
with withered fist

The wolf spits out the lovely plumes
And thus no old age, no
Of his feast of fowls:

Like him I am consumed.
forsaken that to any divine
my impulses toward

Let me seethe
Solomon.

Rather steer clear of the rust
brutishness,—to lift the Cedron.
fin’s lid, to sit, to suffocate
dangers: terror is not

O reason, I brushed from the
—Ah! I am so utterly, and I lived—gold spark
image whatsoever, I took on an expression as
possible:

Salads and fruits
O my abnegation,
O Await but the picking;
below, however!

But violets are the food
De profundis, Domine, Of spiders in the thicket.

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Cut-up of Arthur Rimbaud