Apr 5, 2021
1 min read
the swine of rouen.
sonnet.
as dawn breaks on the nileotic marsh
a heron, ancient token of the gods,
takes flight against the rosy sky; the awed
placidity is shattered by a sharp
gun-blast from the papyrus-brake; a barque’s
been chartered by two frenchmen for an odd
and idle expedition, and gustave
flaubert’s been up all night. debauched, a dark
lasciviousness smears his mind; he’s missed.
his egypt’s a perfumed, licentious stage
for swinish and aesthetic overload;
he’s whored and roared since stumbling off the ship
from france. he snores now, sees the empty page
that haunts him all his life. the river flows.
alex guenther. recent interview here and book here.
