This coming night
 to live in flesh and in thought
 to knock down the walls
 to be understood .

 Refocusing is at the crossroads of great conquests .

 Appearance is putrefaction announced ,
 lifting of the infernal gate ,
 artifact from ancient disasters .

 Attention
 the unpronounceable name
 is this moving tomb with multiple entrances 
 upsetting scruffy man .

 consciousness of existence
 welcomes the approach of reality .

 Let's give to love
 how to make love .

 Let's be transparent .

 Let's empty our accepted tears
 Let's stay in love .

 humanity ,
 the gods and their rites reminding us .

 Have a keen eye
 focused on a living world .

 Let's get out of the abyss .

 Let's create by shouting 
 new stars .

 Our bloody wounds 
 we will lead to language ,
 where to live sanity on the high seas
 and deny all beliefs .

 Before the intelligence of the desire to live
 let's be the rooster of the pre-drawn horizons
 than a lifetime
 represented , fixed and unstable faith ,
 healing our inner landscapes .

 It is given to me to be .
 At the modillions of the bedside the bestiary is offered to us 
 fresh and rustic in its floral arrangements ,
 a single gesture ,

 ... finally listen ....
 
Have you thought about being free ?


 271 

 The cries of siblings hugging each other
 in warm circles
 on the summer fringes
 skinny hands pomade the dough
 field flowers
 dappled clouds
 ripping their raincoats
 for a unique listening
 and jump on the saddle
 mineral churches
 that the mirror auscultates
 strange twist
 on time
 of the burning words
 slow dust rolling down the sunbeam
 the smell fills the room
 there is no politeness
 than living forms and bleeding wounds
 sounds and lights in unison
 the trinket eye delivering the cohort of language
 gripping strap
 enclosing the irrefutable mystery
 unseen wandering
 tracing black on black
 at the crossroads of conquests
 the sign of the sharing to come
 on the canvas bag
 held at arm's length
 as a viaticum .


 269 

 Sylvain .
 Andean flute at the exit of the garages
 little man upright on his supports
 the cheeky face
 and yet unfailingly optimistic
 it swings and it comes back
 this wart on the nose
 part in space
 from his harnesses the air pipes
 show the caravanserai trail
 where the camels of obscure evidence stop .

 They were sweeping outside their doors
 the pointed arrows of derision
 irresistible love
 of your sensitive knees 
 O my sweet-eyed tamarisk love .

 In conversation with laziness
 we were naked
 gasping for the great disaster
 carnage to the marrow
 over the chasms
 in agony 
 filled ditches
 by the acridness of the ebbing sewers.

 Then time against the light did the rest .

 The denied body took us away
 on tip-toes
 dead father and son
 the birds folded their wings
 more quickly followed one another
 the form and meaning given to life
 hands and lips pressed against the glass
 whispering the multiplication table
 on the mist of cold hearts .

 My child
 the doors and windows are closed
 the abyss contains the germ 
 boxes without brake and without chorus
 shattered with a chisel
 my bloody fingers
 grabbing the gutter
 this tabernacle of woody waters
 exposed to the flight of starlings
 taken away dropped off
 bloody beauty
 powerful strides ending on one hop
 under the Grenelle bridge
 picking up a few balls of coal in the big black shopping bag .

 O son
 wire by wire
 pillars of salt
 that disturbs the lost word
 between the visible and the invisible
 a padlocked dry step
 the pneumatic passage of your wheelchair .



 270

 ( Drawing by Sylvain GERARD ) 

 I see, I hear, I smell, I touch, my throat is dry, it's warm .

 The day is wet with dew,
 the light is white,
 fresh leaves of trees in spring are hungry for beauty .
  
 And I change,
 every second I change .

 I evolve,
 I ride loud and clear the breath of the universe,
 and the world changes in me .
 
 I drink the resonant transparency,
 and I send .

 My mission is to convey what is
 at random from the building spark .
 
 Patience, patience,
 my bones are cracking
 the attics are empty,
 the word opens the orifice of the throat,
 I spread the sails of the princely coulter,
 and complete the given .

 My body .

 And it's lucky to have a body .
 
 The body of the ocean with air bubbles rendered,
 and it's a chance to be in tension
 to the estuaries of eternal dawn .
 
 It is through personal practice,
 contrary to the squatting in the shadows ,
 what to meet the cold of the morning,
 open the cry of life
 far from the love-nothingness that was ours .

 my dearest being,
 this world inside me,
 taller than me,
 the other me .
 
 I'm yours .


 268 

  love not say
 cet horizon
 this color ,

 Don't grab the phone
 and know you only through the pain of absence .

 The night , at the very source
 prejudice and withdrawal ,

 Wandering in rainy weather
 under the storm of blood
 to remember the complaint and the reproach .
 
Eternal air bubble
 let's listen
 let's take a look around us ,

 Accused of sad finitude
 the future concerns us
 we the purveyors of dialogue with each other .

 To love without even giving
 daisy and cornflower
 without even biting the fruit of the conflicts
 without the word kindness
 without taking the first step .

 Keep in oneself the rebellious concern
 from a trunk of memories
 that padlocked conviction does not open
 at the risk of living the irreparable .

 Silently ,
 the forehead against the edge of the well
 offer the sky and the stars ,
 reach out to the living reflection ,
 this grace of being in charge .


 267
 

 Paint your windows with blue ink .
 Store the claw of the ash tree .
 Watch the drops of water fall from the roof .
 Pointing at the pheasant perched on the clide in the garden .
 Draw water from the fountain into the zinc buckets .
 Put the barrette back in her hair .
 Climb the mound exposed to the north wind behind the house .

 Dip his hooves in the fresh dung .
 Don't forget the wool hat .
 After the storm sail the pine bark boats on the puddle .
 Surprise the grandparents evoke my father and my uncles by the fireside .
 Sort the lentils in the big brown dish .
 Choosing and eating the hot roe .
 Sit on the stone under the barred window 

 Make the leafy pastry in the pradou .
 Picking up grass for the bunnies .
 Choose the stick .
 Run your hand over the rough leather of the cows .
 Look at their big sad eyes .
 Occasionally, cry with them .
 Return from the trough by the coast holding the tail of the Mareuille  .

 Remind the dogs, Riquette and Champagne .
 Hear the iron barrou sink into his coach .
 A single light bulb in the center of the room .
 Climb on the chair take the cheese under the ceiling .
 Open the large drawer with bread pies .
 Go draw the wine from the barrel over the hole .
 That long walk to the Sunday church .
 Grandfather's frame loaded with his military medals .
 I did not know , I was not told .
 That the big ones had to take care of the little ones .
 I'm going on mandatory delivery .
 The clepsydra of time is reversed .
 Silence .
 This dust rising from the dirt road .
 In high winds hold the sequins ready to fly away 

 Get on the bike .
 Disappear in the Laroussière forest between pines and junipers .
 Hear the wind speak .
 En cadence .
 The clock strikes time with its shiny brass clapper .
 They didn't turn around when I called them .
 Out of the morning mist emerges the formal notice of our ancestors .
 The earth is cracking .
 Through the crevices rise the memories .
 I bite the apple .
 The apple tree bends to my shadow .
 She talks about those ashes spread on the doorsteps .
 Last cry of love outside the locker room .
 On the field of upright poles .
 On the way to being the green meadow of future generations .

 Flower among the flowers the sun opens and closes their cool corollas .
 The heath of its rough grass presses our heads against its bosom .
 In the distance the print of the mountains .
 Lead from Cantal, le Puy Mary .
 The Angelus resounds .
 In front of the silent voices our fingers join 


 265
 

 In the crumpled wavelets
 life shield obscures vision
 scathing sweeps
 cry the wise stones .    

 A wind agitates with a mighty amble
 the shrubby frames
 annoy drops of oil
 digging into grimy faces .   
 
End up prostrate the surveyors
 with redundant mirrors ,   
 sequencing ,   
 brutal is the elemental attack .   

 Wipe their muzzle
 dogs with raised lips
 at the crossroads .   

 Group the children
 under the canopy
 strong from a dominated fear .   

 The screaming sounds
 become hullabaloo
 in the slenderness of the dream .   

 Everything fits ,   
 the people ,   
 nature spirits ,   
 those unreasonable voices ,   
 direct instruction .   
 The smell of earth drives away the dust ,   
 the skin opens its lips ,   
 clouds piss thickly the milk of the gods .   
 The visible becomes invisible ,   
 the invisible becomes the visible world . 
  
 Creation is rebellious under its mask ,   
 creation is beautiful ,   
 the essence exhales a sweet song ,   
 I'm dumb ,   
 healing works .   
 A lit pipe ,   
 I offer my soul ,   
 and stand up ,   
 in him ,   
 in my private ,   
 between the dead and the living ,   
 just the whim of being .  

 
 266