Abstract

Super-ego crash-meshed idiot-savant. And what have you. This has to be the show-stopper. Stay put. Slumming for rum and rumba, dumb Rimbaud, he the sortilegist, visionary on parole, floor-walker watching space, the candy man, artiste of neon, traf1⁄2c’s orator, gaunt cantilevers engined by the dawn of prophecy. A sight to see itself: he, swinger with the saints in mission belfries, broken and randy zooming on the toll, love-death by elocution a close thing. Publish his name, exile’s remittancer, prodigal who reclaimed us brought to book.

Full Text
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