rimbaud - arse
reality being too spiky for my humongous personality, – yet i was still there, at her place, a big greyblue bird soaring up to the ceilings coving and running my wings through evenings shadows.
at the foot of the poster bed supporting beloved jewels and physical masterpieces, i was a big bear with purple gums and fur hoary with grief, eyes with the crystal and silver of the side table.
everything was shadow and burning aquarium. next morning – a pugnacious june dawn – i ran through the fields, a donkey, brandishing my sorrow and bellowing, until the suburban sabines came and threw themselves upon my breast.