Rudeness and Lice
…………
Le jeune Rimbaud knew no words for thanks.
“Where would the boy have learned them from, how could
He have embraced them?” his teacher asked. Blanks
Like this appeared in what he understood,
This poet, as a meteor that streaks
Across the Alps is not expected to
Espouse philosophy on icy peaks.
His blinkered ignorance took in taboo
And trod down courtesy. A meteorite
Is unconcerned about destruction’s mark,
Not even its own death. The rock wants bright
Auto-da-fe, eternal as Jeanne d’Arc.
He was by most accounts a filthy lout.
But what was grave, poetic he found out.