The shadows are us
parents at the extremes
children in the middle.
And then molehills
a white blue sky
an outstretched hand
sharp index finger
that's where we're going
without a shadow of a doubt
if not us
the image makers
on the margins of a je ne sais quoi.
wise lines
muted colors
force from left to right
a hallelujah
with bare branches
of a sweet day .
By measured gradations
join beauty and zeal
of what grows on the edge of truth
of what is there
in the meridian moment.
324
Remove the barrels from the forest
clear the space of light
for limit crossed
leave the tree
erase our memories.
Advance at dusk
close to a night of audacity
accustomed
grope for the nave of prayers
rise in perfection.
Loaded with memories
on the sunbeam
on a vibrant morning
count the specks of dust
twirling in the half-open shutters.
Gambade
piano didgeridoo
honey melody
witch encounter
dance of bygone times
elves and trolls
mingling with ocean scents
spin the wind
over the horizon
the rain claps
animal scrabble
churns at night
failed orders
often the rebellion
things so long contained
creeping advance
between gorse and broom
the walls open
spin the wind
hollowing out space
spin the wind
chasing seeded bubbles
spin the wind
in its royal momentum
spin the wind
terminal rustle
spin the wind
before the great silence.
323
She had put on her hat
curtly
and took the door.
Since,
silence,
commemoration in times of crisis
small chip on the cup
the light bulb flashes
we are at the end of the line
I opened the bread drawer
cut myself a slice of bread
butter and cheese
way to pass the pill.
The clock strikes five o'clock
the day will appear only in three hours
take a book
until fatigue comes.
The stove still warm
in the dark
on which simmers leftover soup
a moth wakes up
to bump into the bulb.
She had put on her hat
curtly
and took the door.
On the big table
his collages
his thirty year life
his piled up sufferings
a look of a lost doe
an eye-popping landscape
I crumple it all
it wakes up the cat
waddling towards his croquettes.
Often
seems that the adventure
go through the break
that we cross without looking back
offered to the shivering night
ash animated by a breath.
Quickly,
close the door
the room cools down
put a log in the hearth.
She had put on her hat
curtly
and took the door.
322
Alone at the doorstep
to be between the living and the dead
at the bow of the ship
covering an uncertain future
under the coat hooks in the vestibule
mismatched clothes
by forced wandering .
Clap the banner
the knocking time
offers parentheses
in the crepe of our wounds
without appearing
the poppies of childhood
eternal marriage
before the big upheaval .
In the august fissure
waiting for the day
with a heavy step
the old man goes
on the dusty road
memories to come
warm welcome
breaking away from the too well known .
So offered
this blaze of colors
in full armfuls
enchanted aspiration
of our counted steps
on the crunching gravel
of the sweet coming
of your smile .
320
Red dirt under the snow for the black of infinity towards the whiteness of events. Traces volatiles under the crystal of movement the frost cracks. Large Cipher Writing sometimes encountered inside the mountains. Lost on the edge the child against his heart squeeze the viaticum of beautiful thoughts. Consuming without consuming the height would be to believe and make it look good. In the dark of ink there is the void of space this page of pure silence. For the moths point d'obstacle just the revolt active clasp. The cobblestones of oblivion resound trot-menu of the genius of passage on the white linen of the poem. It crunches underfoot the veins of illusion are declined at the jump of a void of air. shuffle the cards make a big fire love is tap dancing. ( Photo by Caroline Nivelon ) 321
die in thoughts
reach the other side
without memory occurring .
Cocher aux basques du temps
sensation
sans que reflet ne vienne .
Scare the pigeon
with a slow gesture
without getting dust .
Skin the Dream Rabbit
out of bed
without remorse reaching .
clear the plain
to the breath of draft animals
without the end of the day .
Snuff out the candles
between thumb and forefinger
without running or burning .
Raising the bulwark
by slow ascent
without the cheers of the crowd
psalmodier quelques reflets de lumière .
319
At the caravanserai of our loves swirling wave in Lent to be raw on the side ricochet smells good the secret spice lips offered to the wind first from a distant monochrome elaborate seed to the juniper of our joined fingers than a dance with a thousand flowers engage in the undergrowth in the footsteps of lost souls. 318
" Wind sandals "
that it was called
this being of shadows inhabited
what a cry
out of the usual encounters
this loneliness
with a chipped trace
origin of passions
bent over the pavement of circumstances
this reluctance
to have to do
this sown escape
gold dust
these suns
collected days
in an eggshell
the unbinding of major chords
underground music
winged wind
after continuous casting
my soul
my ability to hug
the in-between
from visible to invisible
the Nothing of our reciprocal agreement .
316
The burning wind
the blowing wind
the laughing wind
the wind that sows
the rushing wind
reversed
and dig the river
of a shadowy vortex
my soul is a rolled stone
under the plow share
turned stone
revealing the honey of the earth
rubbing stone
to which the skin rubs
hungry belly
of the child to come
under the cry delivered
at the end of cycle
finally roses
bitten by frost
with pigment adornments
rows of bacchanals
on the take-off board of my lair
of my between us
open door
that with one finger I open wide
to the wind that comes
to the wind that blows .
315
do you remember
plane trees along the canal
crows at dusk
with festoons of light
spelled by the sound of water
glued to the treetops
majestic unfolded clouds
parted lips
swing of the arms
to the columns of the temple
metronomic auscultation
holes that light floods
ending summer night
to sweaty rebels
that the wind embraces
frisson ardent
simple answer
that the footsteps curl
under the pleasant dew
rosy cheeks
candles show
in the striking shadow
light fabric on your shoulder
ripples in your voice
indentation of a memory
pass wall of passing time .
313