The Portrait of Abelard

The wild boars are grubbing for acorns
Among the moist fallen leaves,
And the Arduzon disperses
Mist along its course.
The Paraclete is cold;
the cloisters comfortless.

The eunuch is contrite;
His genitals are gone to dust —
Like amputated limbs are burnt
These twenty years in acid earth.
The river runs
along the horizontal light.

His mind is foster'd on the infinite;
His voice is gentle, animate
With intellectual faith.
The flowers toss
against his moving feet.

The body when depriv'd of lust
Offers to an outer God
Its forced immaculation.
The scaly sky
hath cast its glittering sheath.

And now the illumination of the stars
Visits with raw radiance
The body's hollow cave.
There bounds the fleshy sphere
More playfully
sapp'd of seminal rheum.
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