...à la Rimbaud

    Like a seraph sitting at a bar
    I live clutching a ribbed glass
    Under a sky swollen by soaring sails

    In me inaccessible dreams,
    Like hot excrements
    From an old dovecote
    Make sweet burns into my skin
    And my tender heart
    Is gradually sapwood
    The young gold sun
    Bathing in blood

    And when I have carefully swallowed
    Each and every dream again
    I turn around
    With so much fire into my veins
    And prepare to release the acrid need

    Soft as the Lord of cedar and hyssope
    I piss highest and farthest
    Towards tedious heaven
    With the large heliotropes

Emily Dickinson's axiom
Emily Dickinson's Axiom...