I mowed the grass   
 with invasive daisies   
 avoiding bellflowers    
 near the almond tree   
 then there was the cherry tree   
 apple trees   
 the lilacs    
 and wisteria,   
 to avoid.
      
 spring blossoming of the principle of love   
 dazzling in its appearance   
 secretive in his dispositions   
 with leaf growth   
 adornment corbelling the months to come.  
    
 I walked in the dewy grass   
 sketched some qi qong movements   
 inspected the jars, sinks and tubs   
 flowers and shrubs
 nos respirs.  
    
 Then, sitting on the wooden chair   
 I dived into wandering   
 in living stillness   
 hands clapping   
 memories arise   
 of our cross gardens   
 in this life of mine     
 to contemplate   
 the drape of the coming days,   
 decoction of the cosmos,   
 our father.   

   
420

   No one is hostile   
 when the cry of the night rises   
 adjusted movement   
 in the pancake of fascinations.  
    
 Are adorned with a thousand lights   
 heart of angels   
 and his cupbearer, l'Inaugural   
 at harvest time. 
     
 Exhausted and vindictive   
 the Sacred by the fireplace   
 the Secret by human speech  
 All went up to say goodbye to our mother.  
    
 Weary before plunder   
 to swallow in secret commissions   
 the ambiguities of the massacre   
 animals in their entrails. 
     
 Would we be too many   
 before the clearing of Being   
 to give up our place   
 in the clarity of the ether ?     

 
419

Escaped over the hill   
 divine and slanderous Mélusine   
 this nuptial encounter evoked   
 on a morning of meditating thought. 
     
 Dwelling on the deployment of origins   
 in the sense of the sense that the shepherd paginates   
 the goat of Parnassus half-naked   
 displayed the eternal oblivion of being. 
     
 Silent flame on board the Analogue   
 ephemeral word   
 promise faithful to its call   
 from inside the path was climbed.  
    
 In the azure of destiny   
 by the dawning clarity   
 soul on pilgrimage   
 roamed the countryside.  
       
 Homeland of Whispering Showers   
 haven of our wandering hearts   
 the sepias of childhood   
 deposited the find.  
    
 Shot arranged in a fan   
 so many of you asked for the body   
 that the rumor swelled   
 of a supposedly humble reconstruction.   

   
418

   Words of clicks and slaps   
 sign the sky of tinsel garbage.  
    
 Wanderings are legitimized   
 by sleazy propaganda.   
      
 Air attacks   
 water the night   
 the whistle of bombs.   
   
 Turned Graves   
 flower the cracks of the spirit. 
     
 There is no hope except the little poetic hand   
 nailed to the barn door.    
  
 even insects   
 commit suicide on abandoned beaches.   
   
 In the morning   
 the ground will be covered with gall.    
  
 Sustained posturing    
 of beings devoid of love.   
   
 death is here,   
 brassy owner of the apocalyptic cymbals.   
   
 The tree erects its skeleton   
 on the suffocated plains.      

 It's time for murder,   
 earthlings!   
        

  417

   Manon is a young lunar woman   
 Whose soul goes at the speed of light   
 She's happily uninhibited   
 Sans mental   
 Without judgement   
 His relationship to the world is a fact of nature   
 Sa maturité artistique relève de la pure nécessité   
 How she feels what she lives   
 In the moment   
 Its values ​​are foreign to what is done   
 Its Truth is that of the moment   
 A sensitivity in direct contact with the gesture   
 She's irrational in a continuous flow   
 She is the Fundamentally Just Principle   
 That of the human which is to extract himself from the animal      
 It's not Manon who leads the painting   
 It is the painting that is done through it.  
 
( work of Manon VICHY )


416