JANO the beefy
overturned the table
the bugger in his irascibility
and the candle that was there
and the banality of the evening
the guests left
tottering in scattered order
hat in hand.
JANO the child
placed on a chair that has remained standing
eyes glued to the chandelier
two big even eyes
for a glass pipette
that the cat carelessly
was trying to capture
like the funfair mickey
JANO pestait.
The day had to come
compassionate
excessively dazzling
so that in every corner of the palace
gushes inoculated wealth
blinding light
to bend the dendrites
off cell source.
518
Category Archives: Year 2019
the lapping of sweet words
The splash of sweet words
sow the hand of the simple.
sheep's wool
against barbed wire spikes
sign the wind.
From one daydream to another
the memories are tangled
according to the torrent.
There is no truce
crossed the ford
than the jaws of oblivion.
My friend nothingness
broke the moorings
and vogue trots menu
among the stardust
that we pick up
the evening
when clouds and moon
return to battle.
There is no future
that in the service of the world
when the rain falls
for that rainbow of desires
to be true to one's soul.
517
The sun blows the balloons
The sun blows the balloons
the silence
motionless trees
the companions of the second scratch the floor
the night was incomplete
dreams where I couldn't follow
in the course you had to make figures
on foot and by bike
and make it harmonious
I refused nothing
i was just trying
once I even anticipated
but i got lost
" failure in the countryside ".
Friends will soon appear
this morning it will be market day
then climb to Col de Gilly
at noon meal up there
then descent around two o'clock
to meet the photographer's wife
and visit the Queyras History Museum
Finally back in front of the TV for the Tour de France.
The fir trees weave the mist on the edge of summer
kitchen utensils shine
in front of the snapping sun
the fridge hums.
throw a stone in the river
would be first leads
at the thousand terminals of the day.
The Laguiole placed between shadow and light
on the blue tablecloth in the living room
the flies chew some food
on the white hairs of my arms.
I tighten a notch
the candelabra of expectations
in the hollow of the bundle of sheaves
that had to be lifted
firm fork
on the lift cart
gable after gable
towards the large harvest paillou.
516
complaint to rusty effects
Age point
who owns the memories
to inspire us
meaningful actions
ceremonious even,
revealing images
with a vital force
of body and soul
partisan.
wedding stitch
porous fortress
stuffed with common possessions
in threat
without real danger
for fear of breaking up
marry the shape young and smiling
in consummate solitude
without a face emerging.
514
Mariage à tout âge
Age point who owns the memories to inspire us meaningful actions ceremonious even, revealing images with a vital force of body and soul partisan. wedding stitch porous fortress stuffed with common possessions in threat without real danger for fear of breaking up marry the shape young and smiling in consummate solitude without showing a face. 515
in trust, all
With a happy paw
in elegant company
she advanced on the uphill path
of gritty sand and gravel.
We had to go there
without covering oneself up with evasions
adorable sideburns
of standing queues
demonstrative swelling
nor beatings to the ego.
I am
so i move on
without the reflection strangling me
I organize the base camp
I square the angles of permissiveness
I create.
no mentalism
the action reveals its horizons
the work hatches
the confidence is there
full of poppies
in full basket
from one reciprocity to another
on the edge of ordinary and non-ordinary reality.
511
resurrection birth
On the bridge the trains pass
vibrant and colorful
bunches of memories
with ripped throats
put away pride
the air vibrates with the hoarseness of toads
hats fall
hair stands on end
a bouquet of wild flowers
a smell of hay
a clearing between clouds
the weather is full of light.
Mallet Strike
drum leather
the short sound
river ripples
the bells on the fly
enter the temple
the officiants of the act
climb the mountain of the muses
under the chanting
warriors of oblivion.
512
Pas à pas de voyage en voyage
Step by step,
from trip to trip,
in the arena of a circus
where the wheel turns
the rumor lifts the velvet curtains.
colorful entrance,
noisy barnum,
raised dust
of the animal procession
the passions of the soul
raised to the pinnacles of the temples
dismantle
la lente construction de la raison.
Of blood and colors,
the furious cries of the Erinyes
have destroyed the landscapes of childhood ;
the clay lips of springs
have made way
with cement nozzles,
the stone of the protections has been torn out,
the hedges have been cut down,
filled ditches,
the silver fox
ne trouvera plus le centre des offices,
an evil wind blows the lumps of earth
towards the dry stone terraces,
an old ash tree whispers its last dispositions.
The night coos,
soul pigeons
overhanging
breaches of the human condition ;
populist lies
replace the song of the poets,
the tracks of war engines
follow the iron shoes of the hairy,
the sky is darkening,
even the trees sculpted by the west wind
lay down in the storm.
The air is foul,
against the wailing wall
the papers of envy
crumpled and forced
at the joints of the stones
covered in lichens
become panting flesh
of a random tzimtzum.
emaciated hands,
out of the pockets to match
scratch oblivion ;
rolling eyes
clip the values of the spirit,
sulfur cream
made up with a clown's smile,
nos errances dernières sont à portée des crocs.
The fury takes over
at night,
in silence,
made ugly by the passions of the soul
fights and hatreds ;
dappled by lifting
new harvests,
annonciatrices des renaissances à venir.
There is officinal herbs
than those of spring,
collegiate herbs
of lovers' kiss
scattered
in search of the great upheaval,
a piece of bread
at the bottom of the bag,
l'eau dans le creux de la main.
Nous entendrons le son des ricochets,
pebbles thrown on the river,
accessible to asylum seekers,
en sortie d'exil.
513
deep in the lake
Deep in the lake
black
the intimate
the call of mystery.
Accustomed to the banks
the rose garden
lapping with ease
resistant to go further
off the springs
that the wind blows
strangely free
in front of the beast
with unreasonable gulps
digging
dry mandibles
the cupule where to grind our emotions.
510
from right to left
From right to left
the eye wiper
separates the visible from the invisible
under the thrill of the sky.
Chubby clouds punctuate
of their fat smiles
the thought of the bells
that the echo pierces.
Riding turbaned
lake scents
true chance
of our origin.
509