Mr. CarPeo's 37th Dream

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  So much more hungry than either him or her
  I yearned for a taste of iambic pentameter

  I went to the Poetry And Polenta Cafe
  From  a woodblock stage, someone did say

"On with the show, we must go
  Now presenting...Artie Rimbow"
  
  He wore a beret from head to toe

  Houselights dimmed to lower than midnight
  When the wool-covered poet began to recite

Let it come, let it come,
the time that one can fall in love with!

I've been patient so long
that I'm forever forgetting.
Fear and suffering
have departed for the skies.
And an unwholesome thirst
darkens my veins.

Let it come, let it come,
the time that one can fall in love with!

Like the meadow
consigned to oblivion,
grown and blossoming
with incense and darnels,
amid the fierce buzzing
of the filthy flies.

Let it come, let it come,
the time that one can fall in love with!

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 Then I woke and began to edit
 Hoping for this poem, I could take credit

 Thinking "Artie Rimbow" was a complete fiction
 I love when things are contrary to contradiction

 I dreamt a scene about absurd youth
 But what follows is absolute truth.

 The poem was written in ≈ 1873  by  Arthur Rimbaud    

 In French, the title was Chanson de la plus haute tour  
(Song of the Highest Tower)

 I handtyped the poem from my dog-eared, rain-stained
(but hardly read) copy of this book.

  













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