At the Pride march, it felt good to be part of something amid the bobbing heads and waving banners. Only, I didn't know what some of the banners meant.
Poetry, for Rimbaud, didn't come from one's identity at all. That was a laughable egoism. 'I is an other.'
Poetry, writing-those don't come from an identity at all. Rimbaud's method was a 'derangement of the senses,' a subtraction of identity.
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