11-24-2016, 09:30 AM
in girum imus nocte et consumimur igni
“We turn in circles in the night
and we are consumed by fire.”
All flesh will fail and turn to ash;
with each heart beat, each neuron flash
we are diminished by the fire
that uses us as fuel.
Rimbaud thought he’d got it right
by choosing guns and silence.
He read the signs inscribed on sky
as stars and meteors passed by
and cleaned his page of writing;
understood that meaning hid
somewhere deep within his mind
where word and thought divided.
He turned his back on all he knew,
went searching for a kinder tribe
but Lacan’s letter still arrived
at each new destination;
Rimbaud’s rotting leg became
perfumed annihilation.
The title is the longest palindrome I know.
“We turn in circles in the night
and we are consumed by fire.”
All flesh will fail and turn to ash;
with each heart beat, each neuron flash
we are diminished by the fire
that uses us as fuel.
Rimbaud thought he’d got it right
by choosing guns and silence.
He read the signs inscribed on sky
as stars and meteors passed by
and cleaned his page of writing;
understood that meaning hid
somewhere deep within his mind
where word and thought divided.
He turned his back on all he knew,
went searching for a kinder tribe
but Lacan’s letter still arrived
at each new destination;
Rimbaud’s rotting leg became
perfumed annihilation.
The title is the longest palindrome I know.