Mascot of curved horizons.

 Of the luminous dream of the woman 
 the star sifts to its quintessence
 the missionary man.

 Long is the way
 sand wrestlers
 duty is chap
 freedom seekers
 no exchange of words
 just the reflection offered
 to what is .

 garden of your face
 momentum of our mingled hearts
 honey spring home
 between my consumed soul 
 and the shadow of the dragon .

 I make and undo the scattered
 for this exposed body
 measure of the mystery that has arisen
 during
 emergence of the mists
 let dawn
 the trick of words.

 I blinke the eye
 gentle embrace of torn veils
 evocation of love
 top hearts
 times to come.


 231 

     At 42 there is the door of the industrious .
 Here no beautiful letters ,
 nothing but a parabola
 in the sense of the good Samaritan  .

 Collapsed ,
 he was lying on the pavement ,
 passed the passers-by from oblivion ,
 even disappearing
 in the contractions of our soulless hearts
 drip
 glances
 thrown into agreed affliction
 like time on an empty shell .

 Then ,
 turnaround , 
 the door opened ,
 insistently
 this hand reaching out to him ,
 l'unique .

 Poor man ,
 beaten ,
 he was lying ,
 covered in sores ,
 devoured by the stigmata of his imperfection ,
 weakness he didn't want to see or name .

 Pierced ,
 humiliated ,
 bare ,
 at the bottom of the hold ,
 he was gripped by the freshness of a balm .

 Finally he obeyed ,
 he was free ,
 out of person ,
 out of all other mingled .

 He was coming back to him ,
 he was born ,
 he was giving birth ,
 he knew .

 standing up ,
 he took his clothes ,
 inquired where he should go ,
 face in light ,
 the generous look ,
 the sure step ,
 to offer people to meet ,
 the sweet smile ,
 of those who know ,
 than behind surpassing oneself ,
 hides the beauty of the beauty ,
 the amber of the sperm whales of the spirit .


 230 

 As light as a feather
 an angel passes
 at the edge of the forest .

 In the depths of waiting
 lis not precise
 panting
 the void is there .

 The halter unties
 the beast points its muzzle .

 An aurora borealis in acme .

 A flock of wild geese
 lift the clouds .

 The risk is pressing
 the heart beats against the ribs
 a heavy rain calms our ardor .

 It could be that succeeds
 to the terminal momentum of our calls
 the song of our infallible loyalty.


 229 

 As light as a feather
 an angel passes
 at the edge of the forest .

 In the depths of waiting 
 lis not precise
 panting
 the void is there .

 The halter unties
 the beast points its muzzle .

 A flock of wild geese
 lift the clouds .

 The risk is pressing
 the heart beats against the ribs
 a heavy rain calms our ardor .

 It could be that succeeds
 to the terminal momentum of our calls
 the song of our infallible loyalty  .


 229 

 Living in the shadow of what is
 living without a head
 soft abscissa
 against the elegant order
 of the increasing curve
 the space of a breath .

 Open the closet
 Enter into the unbinding of being
 objects standing guard
 out of their meticulous utility
 without the offer being made .

 Let's not eat our white bread 
 let the pigeons descend into the arena
 between concrete walls
 to peck the Viennese crumbs
 to cross the worry
 phone stuck to ear .

 Pregnant
 her hand against her hair
 she causes
 then sits down
 fingers
 hidden by the metal upright of the canopy .

 I get confused
 this twist
 seated
 hand to temple
 the bag at the bottom of the chair
 immobile .

 She will tidy up
 vials and jars
 without forgetting the tea bags
 then close the door
 in a silent spring afternoon .

 That a vapor covers the glass
 that arises the ooze of a vision
 may the master turn off the light
 we can then 
 live in the shadows 
 the calm delight of an endless day .


 228