His name was unpronounceable    
mi ami ou quelque chose comme ça    
que l'on échangeait à la sortie du bistrot    
sans qu'une syllabe échappe de trop.        
 
Semblait belle femme cependant    
avec ses yeux bleus sous ses cheveux crépus    
à la poitrine allégorique     
sur un corps de liane.    
 
Les galets gragnolaient    
sous la houle des jours heureux    
à portée d'une verste    
nous batifolions en bord de mer.        
 
Maurice devant    
puis Raymonde à son bras    
sous la lune montante    
ouvraient le banc.        
 
D'un claquement sec    
les talons sonnaient au pavé    
de granite avéré    
sous l'envol des mouettes rieuses.        
 
Lanterne vacillait    
houppes des arbres ployaient    
pavillon claquait    
nous musardions.        
 
 
637
 

thousand kisses    
stealthily    
have flown away    
of the Judas tree.        
 
Reason for this    
flight of souls    
at the edge of the wave    
by low tidal coefficient.        
 
There was there    
in their leather coats    
les agents de l'estran    
handmade lantern.        
 
At the window of measurement    
the candle flickered    
in front of the falling night    
in a threatening west wind.        
 
Biting lightning    
bordered the open sea    
from a high bar of clouds    
writhing in pain.        
 
Picked up the wicker basket    
straightened our salt skirts    
tightened the bond of our hats    
and faces.        
 
 
636
 

Went to the other side of August fifteen    
to all    
my thoughts and my loves    
in procession    
under the fragrant canopy of honeysuckle.        
 
We are married    
once again    
as if the time was given in ceremony    
according to memories    
according to the tide    
flying the flag    
under the threatening laughter of the storm 
while rising    
the acrid smell of seaweed    
under the cry of seagulls    
inclined to describe with their white twirling    
on the foreshore at the waterholes    
Noah's ark    
than the swell    
away    
connected with a perpetual rolling
to clusters of images of a world to come.        
 
 
635

I don't like bullies.  
  
I climbed the tower    
I saw    
I dropped objects    
which I hastened to find    
once down.        
 
I gathered people in a circle    
some sitting on the grass    
others elongated.        
 
Then    
we were dispersed by a security guard    
armed with a camera    
who ordered us to leave the place.        
 
I try    
Since the day    
where I explained to the assembly    
who i was    
and how i saw life    
gather    
find interested parties    
to encourage them    
to be part of our group    
welcoming hearts in search of peace, of love and joy
those whose lips burn.
 
 
634

make song    
from your passions.        
 
Hang on to the vertigo of instinct    
the teeming with a hungry belly.        
 
Be in cahoots    
with your steps on the gravel.        
 
Touch with your fingertips    
the fine lines of the beaches of the mind.        
 
stay alert    
when the butterflies fly from your parasols.        
 
And then a word just a word     
index finger through lips.        
 
walk walk    
on the front of the track.        
 
With an ample armful of flowers    
be the broomstick of rebellious nights.        
 
To be the moss of the babbling of the foreshore    
don't stop the quest.        
 
May the moonlight    
of slow recollection    
lead the sparrow of souls
towards the spring flute.        
 
 
623

The clouds are moving    
de concert    
pommelés aux baisers de la rencontre    
se défaisant des choses feintes   
pour recomposer les scènes    
from childhood    
telles galipettes    
sur la prairie aux coquelicots    
que l'ombrelle des femmes fleurs    
ponctue d'ombres et de frissons.        
 
Les nuages dansent    
sans entrave    
en inspiration blanche    
agrippés et défaits    
d'un endroit l'autre    
sous la soupente    
que les sabots pétillants    
cadenassent    
tel rêve au petit jour    
enfoui sous  les feuilles sèches du réveil.        
 
There is no future    
que le quart présent    
de la vigie    
plongeant son regard    
dans le moussu des contemplations    
nuages nuages    
prémices du bleu éternel    
sous la plage blonde    
de nos pas prudents    
évitant le coquillage coupant.        
 
 
632

The lever of things said    
offers its dead arms    
out of oblivion.        
 
Game of cache cache    
after the parade    
the souls on their high horses    
overflowed with altruism.        
 
It didn't take more    
for the memory of the caravans to arrive    
shrubby passages    
present in the desert of habits.    
 
The taut flesh followed    
on the wickerwork of the arches    
by undoing the canvas    
without the wind coming.        
 
eternal passage    
blue order.        
 
Escaped from the alcoves    
ligneous forms    
of our thoughts well anchored    
passed through the partition of summonses.        
 
Were singing loudly    
the fragility of our members    
the chosen ones of our hearts    
giving to passers-by    
a knowing smile.        
 
And always there    
the revealing fault    
the dating flaw    
that of the choregies    
sung in the middle of the night    
back from work    
pockets full of green pebbles    
in the dizziness of the reeds    
rustling in the midst of torment    
not knowing where to go    
the keepers of brute force    
the bold    
to cross the area without looking    
rattling with their metallic scales    
towards the spring water outlet    
end of cycle    
while ostensibly    
the moon was rising    
skull open to our expectations .        
 
 
 
631

bleed gently
words of honey
about the brokenness of the soul.
 
Follow with your finger
on the game-filled window
the child's cries.
 
Open and close
close and open
the fold of memories.
 
Widen the wound
for even more red
dent the insignificant.
 
Blowing on the hot
to iridescent the surface
ready for the kiss of dawn.
 
Turn off the gaze
in high winds
heavy eyelids.
 
Estimate the distance
offer you in prime
at the angel's leap.
 
Place the ciborium
Gaelic quests
on the edge of the well.
 
One last cry
one last look
and then nothing.
 
Pince-mi and pinche-me are in a boat
pince-mi falls into the water
What's left ?
 
 
630

The moon     
night feather    
in blooming orange hues  
timeless    
and yet wing of angels    
in tender elevation    
to what we expect    
without waiting    
spellbound    
scattering his voices    
fragrant lips    
under the curvature of the whisper.        
 
Tingling at the fingertips    
covered with a black crepe    
the sulfur of his gaze    
chipped teeth    
without the procession passing    
extensive snow    
veil stretched over the cimbalom    
barley and rye mixed    
in the hand of the poor of the church    
wise hatching    
children of god    
current through the stubble.        
 
Lune     
night feather    
frizzy on his breath    
affix his signature    
on the eyelid    
from mother to father    
our captains    
on the edge of memories    
that we assigned    
on a day of grace    
to be silent
to hear.
             
 
 
629
 

Mary Lou    
didn't care    
only for her raw silk underwear.        
 
Was going up    
at the greasy pole    
the deserter of happy days.        
 
then ended    
in the ditch    
the postman on a bicycle.        
 
Cat and pussy    
scruffy but horny    
tuned their violins.        
 
was rubbing    
of his red tail    
the red tail of dreams.       
 
In the firmament     
went up    
the rosy cheeks of lovers.        
 
The gaze of the awakened man    
to all life that crosses it    
becomes limitless.        
 
May this land wind  
deep in old sleep   
hide our narrow lives.        
 
May we unfold the baleen of the beast 
in small inroads and holy patience
towards the beautiful and the great.

628