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From Café Apollinaire
I
- Refugees of Bohemia -
At the end of the night
After leaving Café Apollinaire
poets & artists stroll arm in arm
along the shadowy streets of Paris
in the twinkling yellowish glow of gas-lights
inebriated by heady discussions
& wine & absinthe
Fire-Dragons circle the moon
St.Denise wanders around
holding his severed head in his hands
the cynical Gargoyle Stryge
sticks out his tongue from atop Notre-Dame
returning to humble ram-shackled
cold dark garrets in the squalid slums of Bohemia
on dead end streets in rambling
make-shift cheap rat-infested
rent by the week hotels
a crazy maze new sections
added on willy-nilly
eating one meagre meal a day
lighting candles stuffed in old wine bottles
dripping with hardened wax
struggling through another night
of a thousand hours
hearing a series of single gun shots
the sickening splashes of water
another poet or artist a genius
a third rater a poser
caught up in Romantic delusions
ends a life not worth living-
at the end of all our struggles
we shall be carried out
in a coffin by strangers
abandoned in a common grave
or in a grand funeral procession
a multitude of mourners
led by a New Orleans Jazz Band
through the Gate of St.Denis
to the Cemetery of the Innocents
left to ponder eternity-
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