“Sonnet to an Asshole”
Dark and wrinkled like a deep pink
It breathes, humbly nestled among the moss
Still wet with love that follows the gentle flight
Of the white Buttocks to the heart of its border.
Filaments like tears of milk
Have wept, under the cruel wind pushing them back,
Over small clots of reddish marl
And there lose themselves where the slope called them.
In my Dream my mouth was often placed at its opening;
My soul, jealous of the physical coitus,
Made of it its fawny tear-bottle and its nest of sobs.
It is the fainting olive, and the cajoling flute;
It is the tube where the heavenly praline descends:
A feminine Canaan enclosed in moisture!
- A. Rimbaud (1871)
Submitted January 15, 2019 at 09:46PM by yogiscott http://bit.ly/2QQlNZo
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