SONNET IN PRAISE OF THE BUTTHOLE

Lovers and poets Arthur Rimbaud and Paul Verlaine once waxed eloquently about the anus. We’re sure it souded sexier in the original French but here’s an English translation:

Dark and puckered like a tiny violet eye It breathes, obscurely lurking in a mossy froth Still humid from love that follows the curving soft

Slope of snowy ass just past the crease of thigh.

A few glistening threads running like milky tears Have wept past the rough hot wind pushing them away,

Getting beyond those little gnarls of ruddy clay To lose their way where the echoing downslope veers. In dream I often find my suck-hole on the job;

My soul, so jealous of palpable fuckery, Says this is its musky tear-duct, its nest of sobs. It’s the swoon-diving olive and the flute cajoled, The pipeline where the celestial praline flows, Feminine Promised Land in the moistening fold. Verlaine (quatrains)

Rimbaud (tercets)