Écrire comme si on disparaissait
 in this wear
 stone to stone
 où construire l'impact de la brûlure
 looking at dead words .

 Accumulation du verbiage
 without shocking the contingencies .

 Seamless, crease-free indifference
 flooding with light
 what the other offers ,
 what our flesh skin
 gives food to our dark skin .

 Threat ,
 sparks between mud and drunkenness ;
 to tremble
 in total allegiance to friendship,
 without abundance or forgetting ,
 reach the other side
 joy and sadness mixed
 on the obsidian joint
 of what remains ,
 towards the precious result
 where vanities excluded
 smash on the body of writing .


 189 

 Enigma of the Great Silence
 in quantum random posture
 resolutely our ,
 in this possibility of calling
 the infinitely current ,
 infinitely everywhere ,
 the infinitely non-existent ,
 in support of the respect due to this Nature
 yes free ,
 yes fragile ,
 so monstrously violated ,
 by the work of the biblical serpent
 fit for his evil role
 to break down asymmetries
 for the purpose of destruction .

 there are nights
 where adorning himself with the sparks of a meeting tree
 shatter the clouds of inconsistency
 with the sword of perfect understanding
 and perform
 at the edge of universal intelligence
 the ample harvests of wonder .


 188 

      A letter, a cross on a white slab ;
 we also get up for nothing.

 The library, the sun behind the rosehip ;
 we're going on a trip for good.

 The vertebra, the mouth and then the cradle ;
 we are down on this earth, much lower than the ground.

 The rain, the child against the wall ;
 we swear we won't get caught.

 Your skin, your smell, the calm of your smile ;
 it's like being on the edge of a pond under the tamarisk trees.

 A missal, a ball in a shell ;
 we are much more than what we call living.

 A curtain, an oak tree for merriment ;
 we keep the memory of a "I do not know what".

 The blank page, the rose and death ;
 so many of us get caught up in it.

  Daisy, green grass for this blackbird ;
 we need such moments to sum up our lives.

 Bedroom, tears on snow background ;
 We tell each other everything, absolutely everything, each on one side of the glass.

 A sign in the embers, a woman ;
 We are silently reduced to the essential.

 Chips in a handkerchief, a man ;
 We glean what springs up late.

 through the clouds, the appearance of a child ;
 We are everything and then not much for each thing.


 187 

        ball of dreams
 mystery cults
 glitter
 amputated
 twirling .

 Foucault's pendulum
 on the heads of the faithful
 crowned with laurel
 and carrying the cistus.

 ikebana storm
 lights at the end of wrought iron rods
 rattling of the assembly
 crystalline songs
 ocean encounters
 the flow of the waves repels the dust
 granting oneself
 one last weigh-in
 sepulchral souls
 under the pinned picture rails
 in these times of romance
 with myriads of insects
 arise from the chests of oblivion
 at the Young Body Olympics
 knowing how to make their flexibility
 to seekers of secrets .

 my eternal soul
 so ready already
 from the source of origins .


 185 

 With little wing strokes   
 sometimes resting on a forked tail   
 the muzzles agreed.    
  
  Camped on their hooves   
 the heavy body   
 they puffed out their chests. 
     
 Soiled by mucus exchanged   
 their mouths fed   
 deep grins.
      
 The wings stirred the light   
 for some passing confusion   
 blowing away the dust of angels. 
     
 The larva and the bull calf   
 believed in life    
 their ostensibly fragrant ooze.  
    
 Bloodshot eyes   
 giggled with greed   
 paws and hooves rattling a bourrée.  
    
 "   come animal   
 and whisper in my ear   
 that the time has come.  
    
  What extend these conflicts   
 to the world of entrants   
 would make it possible to sign the absence of origins. 
     
  Than from one chip jump to another chip jump   
 the rise of knowledge   
 would stain the paten with blood.  "     
 
 Wasn't this dance to life and death   
 would be on the rise   
 we   
 the coming melody stars.  

    
 184 

      From each other
 listening listening
 echo ear .

 Between the convolution and the breakaway
 the deep sound of Scandinavian trumpets
 lift the mist .

 Working ,
 geometric lights
 caress the grain of the canvas .

 The sandy hatches
 at the water's edge
 let the castaways pass .

 By the window
 a sharp sun
 announce the day ;
 Free mountains covered with snow
 hands reach out ;
 little flame at the bottom of hearts .

 Advance under the frescoes of the nave
 to the holy of holies ;
 the bells ring on the fly .


 183 
  (Painting by Elianthe Dautais)