Poetry rears the words  
 Elle  
 The multicolored skein  
 Torn by its own enigma  
 She blooms and is silent  
 She waves  
 Foam rolls   
 Elle s'amuse ruse abuse  
 She fuses  
 She ricochets  
 She sneers  
 she laughs yellow  
 Without denying oneself  
 She opens  
 She offers  
 She cannot submit to the established order 
 She's fooling around  
 She encarte by her fragility  
 The chiaroscuro of thuriferous glances  
 His organization is relentless  
 She is freedom  
 She spots  
 She punctuates  
 She squats in front of the toddler  
 She levitates beyond propriety  
 It cannot be satisfied with the curvature of time  
 She's falling off the ladder  
 The eternity of beginnings  
 She crowns the street child with a papal miter  
 At full throttle she laughs at the nuances  
 It contains the trolls and the leprechauns   
 She erects Calvaries with a caress of a feather  
 She embodies half-words  
 The daily mishmash  
 She is a flame sprung from the rustle of crepe  
 She is quiet  
 And then  
 Was  
 Backlog  
 She is ant  
 To make reality miserable  
 She is cicada  
 By its ability to marvel  
 From the worries of tomorrow  
 In high winds  
 Loose hair  
 It is sandy track by the sea  
 Sur un vélo bringuebalant  
 It is built along the way  
 Wandering to be  
 Elle 
 L'herbe folle des no man's land 
 The acclaim of the bud in spring  
 Along the road  
 It collects waste  
 It recycles plastics  
 Of the guttural roar of its pipes   
 Elle orgue le cervidé aux bois du Roy  
 she is music  
 And if the night surprises her  
 She becomes a glowworm in the eggshell   
 It culminates in end-of-life suspension points   
 It thins out the lump of regrets  
 Elle 
 Qui de fleurs vêtue  
 Cluttered the attics with his emotions  
 Become smile  
 In the light of an ultimate day  
 She cracks and bounces  
 Both look and experience  
 Perched on the master tree  
 To watch for traces of life  
 under the moss  
 She is a squirrel   
 Live and contemplative  
 Facing the pitfall of dry almonds  
 She is a must  
 From before to after  
 Out of safe shade  
 Exposed to scorching drunkenness  
 Visionary cavalcades  
 She is snow in the sun  
 Brown wingspan with giant wings  
 She scratches with an incredible cry  
 Le cristal infernal  
 Ageless melodies  
 She models  
 Of its shrubby caresses  
 The facial features of the ancestress  
 She raises the curtain of sap  
 Over the morning mists.
  
 It is meetings  
 Beneath the kelp brought by the tide  
 Where the smell of decomposition thrives  
 From germ to renewal  
 The clamor of the crowd towards loneliness  
 And the last thing to the mystery.
  
 She was and will be  
 My recognized wife  
 My cantor of evaporated nights  
 Ma distance  
 My failure  
 From between the tripod of the gods  
 To dig the unreason   
 Muted in soul  
 So filed  
 Grown under the shadow of a bloodless sun  
 My brow girdled with the last sweats.
  
 Palme sera la poésie du retour à l'esprit  
 Of my numb fingers  
 I would spread the earth  
 An insect will climb on the nail  
 Agile and restless .  

 It will be in the morning .  


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 On the white screen
 En sortie de scène
 Le Barbare arrache la gaine dorée de l'idole .

 Ignoring the poisonous plots
 Il peint et dépeint le processus de création
 À grandes lampées désirantes .

 It cracks the seams of the decor ,
 Inconnaissables limites
 De la piété mise à nue .

 Recoiling from the slow rising waters
 Il intériorise le regard
 Jusqu'à l'hallucination .

 The stones of the path creak under his feet ,
 L'herbe libérée rayonne de photons ,
 Les bourgeons pulvérisent leur pollen .

 The false peace 
 Arbore son ventre aux syntaxes suaves
 Sur fond de perspective échappée.

 The swarm of presence
 Fait tâche de sang
 Sur la toile des commencements .

 The holy scratches are closing
 Sous le souffle du pinceau
 Sans que l'encrier se renverse . 

 Rise up the rungs of the ladder
 Le Cadre noir des nuits traversières ,
 Ce chercheur d'équilibre .


 223 

  Warlord becomes Prince of Peace .

 Carrier of the double of things
 he delivers the light recluse in the box of dreams .

 Doubting his own vision
 he puts blinkers on his thoroughbred .

 The accepted chance of a smudge reveals a diaphanous blue .

 It imperceptibly hastens the fall of the West .

 He faces the enormity of the task ahead .

 He crosses the grid of celestial space .

 On the edge of the world ,
 in the manade of his workshop
 his swashbuckling gesture
 tames the scrambles .

 It is people of menhirs .

 Sometimes tired
 his mismatched eyes
 fertilize the laziness of the mind .

 There is an ardent digital posed to the flanges of the locks .

 He is watchman of the watchtower ,
 immobile en son attente .

 He signs furtively with a bullfighting spasm
 through things said .

 He is the inflexible lawyer
 infinite freedom of combinations .

 He opens with an ax
 the twice blessed with the fairness of the angel .

 On the faces bereaved by the rupture of appearances
 he is the ardent vandal of a barbaric demand .

 He courts the white spit of likeness .

 On the pearly face of a shoddy mica
 again and again it desquamates the laughter of atoms .

 Il rend visible l'Apocalypse ,
 his , the prophet with the eyes of Voyant .

 He offers his face to aesthete inquisitions 
 his , l'artiste des pleurs immédiats ,
 the enucleur pending .

 And if the discoverer
 in its studded braces
 traces the darkness of light,
 during , everything ignites ,
 eagle eyes ,
 to the black breath of the bison of thought ,
 like the heart of the Impeccably Distinguished Beauty ,
 like the margin of a notebook obliquely soiled with blood .

 The shutters slam ,
 the join of dualities explodes ,
 un éclair de vie clame l'éblouissement de la présence ,
 the dust dances in the ray of light ,
 tout se rejoint d'une amble véritable .

 Leaving the cave of the wanderers
 he submits to the springboard of servants
 his , the priest of exits from exile .

  ( after a work by JC Guerrero ) 

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