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 .
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 .
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 .
Your light hand nibbles the strings raised hat dressed in black clothes my marine excess my long fingers on the terminal spear without instinct .
Water sports on a slight slope papillotes and caramels of their crystal stripped for front teeth hug the slack vintage nights .
Decoction of your smile under the warm duvet can spin the galaxies musical staves in breath of feigned flight mountebank that a cloud erases so early so late the lock of hair over the eye trouble the infinite .
Live voice and heart enamored with a burning ember, untie the fibers of boredom dived in their native waters the essential chord of low and painful notes my flower my life ma vibration my panting adoration mouth in breath of breath my grace on tender grass torn to the four limbs of your body so soft . "I love you, you have to learn to say I." (Christian Bobin)
Caress of the note bodice cut-out the sea on the horizon a trailing sky.
Loose hair striking night flickering presence the bird passes.
The bare shoulder the shadow of the pines face turned to the sky a necklace of fine pearls. sadness in the eye swollen lips the moon commas my soul of a shell guitar.
The city in the distance quivering saraband take in your cats it's already too late.
So slow so perfect only at dawn everything is in order memory ecru.
An island of high wings excluding travel of sky and water like a sleeping child . Remembrance in Place de Grève the cut neck to the vociferations of the poor wretches seeking bloody remonstrance . erased insult in the square of oblivion cutlery set in the rising mist . Emerge lightly wandering birds than the deep sky scattered .
Locate on the map this immense memory of laughter and tears decked out, the romance of happy days .
Futile passerby returned part destination unknown arm in arm .
