Cut-ups, series 1.6

A SEAS

Forward! The march

weariness and anger.

To whom shall I

should I adore? What

hearts shall I break?

what blood tread?

the intractable convict

are always closing; I sought

houses he would have

with his idea I saw the blue

of the country; in the cities

more strength than a saint,

a traveler—and he,

glory and his reason.

nights, without roof, with

a voice gripped my frozen

Still but a child,

on whom the prison doors

the inns and rooming

secrated by his passing;

sky, and the flowery labor

sensed his fatality. He had

more common sense than

alone! the witness of his

On highroads on winter

without clothes, without bread,

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Cut-up of Arthur Rimbaud