Hi, my name is Taylor Goldsmith, I chose to read a poem called "Morning of Drunkenness" by Arthur Rimbaud. The last line of the poem actually became the title for a Henry Miller book studying his work, and that's how I got introduced to Arthur Rimbaud and his story, whether it was being shot by his lover Verlaine, or giving up poetry in his early 20s. And this one seems to speak to that relationship with Verlaine, even after the fact that he had shot him.

O my Good! O my Beautiful! Appalling fanfare where I do not falter. Rack of enchantments! Hurrah for the wonderful work and for the marvelous body, for the first time! It began in the midst of children's laughter, with their laughter it will end. This poison will remain in all our veins even when, the fanfare turning, we shall be given back to the old disharmony. O now may we, so worthy of these tortures!, fervently take up that superhuman promise made to our created body and soul: that promise, that madness! Elegance, science, violence! They promised to bury in darkness the tree of good and evil, to deport tyrannic respectability so that we might bring hither our very pure love. It began with a certain disgust- and it ends, - unable instantly to grasp this eternity, -it ends in a riot of perfumes.

Laughter of children, discretion of slaves, austerity of virgins, loathing of faces and objects here, holy be all of you in memory of this vigil. It began with every sort of boorishness, behold it ends with angels of flame and of ice!

Little drunken vigil, holy! if only because of the mask you have bestowed on us. We pronounce you, method! We shall not forget that yesterday you glorified each one of our ages. We have faith in the poison. We know how to give our whole life every day.

Now is the time of the Assassins.