Rimbaud

Scary Monsters, Super Creeps: Poets Behaving Badly (or Not).

When Nosferatu's ShadowRimbaud was introduced to the leading lights of Parisian poetry, he managed to alienate dang near every one of them within minutes. After the group's tres gentile dinner, each poet stood and read his verse aloud. Rimbaud listened more or less politely for a time, then pronounced each man's poem...um...not good. Actually, he used a scatological term more appropriate to the barnyard than to a literary salon. That it turns out his assessment was by and large correct, makes it no less rude.

Life as an Open Book: Memoirs by (and about) Poets

Photo Credit: Underwood by dvs/Doug ShickWriters as a species might be the most abject creatures ever to slink down a blind alley of evolution, but for that anomalous little glitch in our programming that demands that we be heard--that claims not just a voice but a voice made concrete--set in type, if not necessarily in stone.

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