kind of lantern rosy-cheeked Sourire étoilé éclaire les entrailles lace face sprinkled with milk tenderness against the shoulder the cat wraps around your neck. leafless tree le rouge ronge les lèvres small dry kernel that the gaze captures undone hair with a ripe belly redhead itch to be worn before the altar the voice of good girls overhanging opaque glasses with an embrace kneel on the sand face down cry to be stone starry stake in the heavens d'une gymnopédie.
My girl my little one my eternal child Carmine back my blueberry child that I plucked from his mother's womb. Then brother came. And I left the castle at the desire of another man keeping only the scattered limbs whose body I reconstituted Fallen Osiris a few weekends sorry for not knowing keep the heat in the fireplace in my useless hands fine dust que le vent porteto the long corridor of remorse. Then the bronze doors opened some bloody marks on the cold walls j'avançai perceiving the flickering lights on the other side beyond the tall forests de mes passions en déraison. The train entered the free zone the brakes squealed jets of steamblurred the shutter windows. A silence came crows were croaking des voix hurlaient. The line of demarcation passed I knew nothing would be like before. Some askew intentions could not respond to your requests back at home childish handwriting on pink paper out of sight along a mountain road sharing my sleepless nights stars and moon in supply the dog glued to the coattails without ever looking back j'allai. The tricolor ribbon crossed race over in the labyrinth of wanderings I had to find the mother earth mixes atoms ready for recycling. I will get up the air will be cool the heart will bleed the footsteps will be pressing to find the emerging companion the memorial call to order my friend double handing me the crown of flowers my daughter in mandorla my little one my eternal childma bleuettethat I had gathered from her mother's womb a day of joy. 351
To the call horns pebbles thrown against the brazen gates the mountain freezes the word.
Equidistant from embrasures measure thrust and size strikes without the shadow coming. There's blood on your clothes tightened laces will make a forced march. Raise the moon at the claws marine amber. Your steps follow the edge of the path small pebbles unscrew the thoughts protrude from the haversack.
Bite your brakes be the brimborion of the ebbing traps be tall in the downpour. Abjure and come to me Callunum of the raw prairies Offering to seize.
The silent night full of books all around ~ nevertheless I cough. The cat in its place small children are sleeping ~ tick tock of the alarm clock. I yawn and scratch the skin makes the moon sing ~ sitting I contemplate.
Escalator window weights the out of time is reflected tremors. Ephemeral layer joined thoughts orthogonal order unfurled fragrances list the steps access to the antiphon shouted by the angels strapped refuge crevices of oblivion the chains scrape the ground ad hominem excesses.A song and then nothing just the sweat oxen at work. 347
Friend of the Abyssal Streams leapfrog of life in the heart do you want to become a voice among voices you who are much more than you you who are metamorphosis in the reticular pulp that the hand crushes to become tomorrow.
Let's cross the ford full and loose let's become blood and sense blood horse from the wave to the ocean in the grip of desires that the wind makes acts rootlets of a vernacular painting meeting at the touch of the day that the seeker abjures and rebukes from father to son girl of the times be faithfully ardent on the formant of memory.
edge of words at the underground gates weary scents que le vent portesage renaissance childhood sounds darling presence cherries in spring that the dent croque mittens in pockets of our future under the shade of the plane trees on the cathedral square the bite of the cold atteignant le tréfonds de l'âmegracefully among the grasses a breath on your hand in descent of the sun as in passing. 345
The words that come to us nous font être. They are there, in mouth, ink clad, and plowed closely. However, like the bee this desire to be, in the direction of the wind, closer to the nectar, forces us à pousser la charrue, inexorably, jusqu'au bout du champ, just the words that happened. 344
Voice from between the pebbles taken early a pinch of honey on the breath of the May wind.
Big woman thin-legged posed as an asymptote against the heart in unison. Single presentiment short straws gathered on the sly in the hollow of the weary waves.
guitar arpeggios accompanied by a suspicion emblazoned colors the pavilion of meetings.
Abundant purpurines lips from my friend from the woods raise their voices from among the voices. All sails out towards the quivering of a spring buoyed by the breeze.
