Ophelia and Rimbaud

Ophelia's suicidal High Art married, or morphed into Rimbaud's: "Drunken Boat".

Ophelia...smote egress, you are Rimbaud's:

"Drunken Boat".

The river you fell asleep upon found you a sea.

Your bones knew no seabed--poppies, marigolds,

orchids, black roses fill your eye sockets, mouth and rib cage.

You substantiate what color sea may give your lay.

Its foamy waddle has signaled you to one too many

climes...an orison broke open.

What strain of tragedy now holds you, spine on depth,

eye sockets on sky?

You dove headlong into the Shakespearean maelstrom--

where mortal coil confounds.

Great winds fish-scale your waters, only to invert their maw.

There are lines daily of sea's breadth, whereupon its

creatures come single file to kiss your bone.

Ophelia...wrested from river to great sea, shedding trails

of flesh.

If bones were eye of needle...you've pulled through,

heir to tragedy--circumnavigating your infamy.

Konstantinos Mark

Reviews

[...]

. wow ! ... amazing ! ...
. i wish i could "circumnavigate" my "infamy" too ...