Rimbaud stood upon un balcon, assessing the febrile allocation of human space below. No metaphors survive, only the priceless squawk of Verlaine (Paul), in the rough hands of intoxication. Rimbaud may not even have seen the words, the passing traumas, the skulking vocabulary lading the streets below. Squalour remains the verbal remnant of the royal unleashing. Colours defray the cost of straining language, as if such noise could be heard or listened to. The Seine or any other cousin of the Nile invites comparison to shit, merde, the remaining afterhours onus. Nothing in the world weighs more than preposition, and logically nothing can. Word by word Rimbaud takes an earnest flight of poésie, the glockenspiel of romance. The skidding impact and downright crack restoreth nothing in long vivid rapping of pen strokes on paper. On paper, Verlaine proved a great poet, forsooth, trim cadence. Rimbaud turned. The thing, le mot , remains as the smoke of something else, in the burning of which, and in the exact words, briefly, somehow, tho twisted, a failing barometer of intent. In just so many words, Rimbaud’s point takes no space at all. Time left unspent in generation.
Walking is not walking if Gertrude chooses not to walk. The premise: Gertrude Stein is not walking. She may be on a boat, not walking, crossing the wide ocean sea. Leaving inevitable France but not walking. Dramatic but not walking. Sentenced but not walking. There were days of walking but not this day. Reading or just looking but not walking.There were sentences full of walking but not walking. Talking maybe but not walking in or out. A time lived and walking was done then if not now. It was a doing and it was a done. Not forgetting Alice who may have had walking done or even doing. The annals say Leo Stein walked along, up to and including the degree of not walking, along. Those flower names walked along, Matisse, Picasso, Laurencin, in varieties. An adding war or two closed or opened anything jump. Apollinaire in the historical. Languages of shapes and sizes bounding for just the time and a little beyond. And that was the how sentence. In that time but also forward until readi...
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