01 April 2010

It Rains

Guillaume Apollinaire presents a concrete poem

Il Pleut (It Rains)

it is raining women’s voices as if they were dead even in memory
you also are raining down marvelous encounters of my life o little drops
and these rearing clouds are beginning to whinny a whole world of auricular towns
listen to it rain while regret and disdain weep an old fashioned music
listen to the fall of all the perpendiculars of your existence

expression. placement. movement. perfection

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