filaments of discovered

VERLAINE DRINKS

There will always be whores on street corners,

Lost shells stranded on the stellar shores

Of a blue dusk which is neither of here nor of earth

Where taxis roll by like bewildered bugs.

But roll less than in my whirling head

The green gem of absinthe deep in the glass

Where I drink perdition and the thunder

Of the Lord's judgment to roast my naked soul.

Ah! how the tangled spindles of the streets
Turn and spin the fabric of men and women,
As if a spider were weaving her web
With the filaments of discovered souls.
[by~ANTONIN ARTAUD]