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RIMBAUD FIXATION
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BUT DAD, HE'S A POET
As far as the Rimbaud fixation goes, it started out as a Sylvester Stallone character and ended up a 19th Century French poet. It was a pretty bizarre and interesting journey to traverse from one point to the next point. It was hardly a straight line and it wasn’t the quickest path.
The fire was sparked by methanol and the flames became too intense to handle. And then at some point it managed to become something more than what it already was and the cliché plot thickens. This doesn’t really faze me and the pathway had a few choice moments and inspiration sweated through many a hot summer nights and the water and vitamins don’t negate the booze and cannabis.
The senses become slightly disordered and it’s enough to spark a fire and inflame the fever desperately searching for an exit—there’s no way around the trash. We have to bury ourselves up to our necks in it.
The infection of the soul is not a very good sign; corruptive influence on verse it must be stymied before it does too much harm as the obsessions delete all the logical conclusions. And reason is left in tatters and all we can do is capture what we can; the spiritual pestilence will be on its own and with youth already passed, I just hand on for dear life. There is nothing else to do.
6-23-98
