The Price of Poetry
French Wikipedia
“It’s Verlaine just arrived from Brussels…. He is handsome in his own way, and, despite being severely short of clothes, gives no sign of being overwhelmed by misfortune.
“We spend some delightful hours together.
“But he is not alone. He has with him a silent companion who does not exactly sparkle with elegance either.
“It’s Rimbaud.” ~ Félix Régamey in London
A lack of sparkle in their stylishness
Was so pronounced that even friends remarked
On it. But Rimbaud’s regal vile-ishness
Was not apparent to the painter. Narked
Off Félix would have been if he had known
How brutal Arthur was in lice-filled beds
With Paul. A genius doesn’t have to own
A sous of decency while wearing shreds
Of clothing, or while nude, or making love
So-called. What mattered to this smutty lout
Was ramping up his ego far above
Poor Paul (and maybe making Verlaine shout
With pain while lording it deep in his holes).
Rimbaud needed sleaze for modern free verse goals.