Tuesday, June 10, 2014


Arthur Rimbaud, 1854 - 1891

Graceful son of Pan! Around your forehead crowned 
with small flowers and berries, your eyes, precious 
spheres, are moving. Spotted with brownish wine lees, 
your cheeks grow hollow. Your fangs are gleaming. 
Your chest is like a lyre, jingling sounds circulate between your 
blond arms. Your heart beats in that belly where the double 
sex sleeps. Walk at night, gently moving that thigh, 
that second thigh and that left leg.


silvereagle said...

Come to me at any time and lift :-)

Michael Dodd said...

I have to say this photo fit perfectly into an exchange I have been having with one of my apartment-mates from college. Thanks!

Anonymous said...

Wow. Beautiful.

Peace <3

victor said...

thank you for Rimbaud and that
lovely boy