Dennis J. Carlile

“Memory Mémoire I Bright water; like the brine of childish tears, the whiteness of women’s bodies against the sun; silken mobs of pure lilies of banners under walls that a virgin girl defended once.   Angel’s play;—No… the swift gold current sways her arms, dark and dull, above all cool, through the grass. She sinks under the blue Sky’s canopy, calling for curtained shade from hill and overpass.”
― translated by Dennis J. Carlile, Rimbaud: The Works

“I can’t remember any further back than this place on earth and Christendom. I never tire of seeing myself in that past. But always alone; without family. Even so, what language did I speak? I never see myself among the counselors of Christ; nor in the councils of the Lordly—representatives of Christ. What was I in the last century? I don’t find myself again until today. No more vagabonds, no more vague wars. The subordinate race has spread everywhere—we the people, it’s called, rationality; nationality and science. Oh! Science! Everything’s been made over. For your body and soul—the last rites—here’s medicine and philosophy—old wives’ remedies and popular songs rearranged. And the diversions of princes and the games that they prohibited! Geography, cosmography, mechanics, chemistry! . . . Science! the latest aristocracy! Progress. The world marches on! Why shouldn’t it make a turn? This is the vision of harmony. We’re headed for the Spirit. That’s for sure, it’s an oracle, I’m telling you. I understand it, and unable to explain myself without heathen speech, I’d rather keep silent.”
― Dennis J. Carlile, Rimbaud: the Works: A Season in Hell; Poems & Prose; Illuminations