Elegant climb to the treetops   
 Then down
 in tender emptiness   
 along the dew bubbles.   
 
 Niche corollas   
 suitable for insects   
 even the sound of the horn   
 intoxicates them.     
 
 Shaded passage at the bottom of the cliff   
 reflections of sun touches   
 through the foliage.      
 
 And then nothing   
 just watch what comes   
 fading light effects   
 reach black water.     
 

   496 

    Smooth marmalade   
 with rhythmic bursts   
 of an athletic fly   
 along the crack   
 shadow octopuses follow each other.  
    
 To the sacred stones   
 bring the dark into his grace.   
  
 apple of his eye   
 currant jelly     
 moreover acid  
 ruled out any dispute.     

 
  497 

     Most, it is possible that one is also the consciousness of the consciousness of … and there, it is the Being of our being that is in question, which brings us back to the existential to the essential, this essential which is not something abstract but Life of our life, the breath of our breath, the conscience of notbe awareness….      

     What questions not only our analytical mind, but our “Vision” and invites us to take a step further, a step beyond images and symptoms in which we can stop. It is then to know that we know nothing, it is the beginning of wisdom.

     The rain may come, there will be me in the rain that hits the ground, who rustles and lifts the fragrances. There will also be the Being-Presence of that which arrived, this awareness of being there and outside everything that can happen to us, the moment of the encounter as it has never happened, this flash of grace that binds us to much more than us, in the plainsong of fulfillment and goodbyes, dissolved sensations and reflections, except the living and the death of our identity being, that part of ourselves which is foreign to us and which alien, long before the rain falls, well after the soil is dry.

     We are and have been, a trace, but a trace that we traded knowledge for silence, the suspension of options of meaning for Being, one with oneself, be a.

495

 Concert White Dwarfs   
 avec petits bateaux bleus   
 frissons de l'âme.      

 Des nuages ténus   
 the graceful straps   
 list   
 notes of honey   
 les pensées souveraines
 déposées aux frisures de l'esprit.
  
 Les passants du sans soucis   
 bouclettes silhouete  
 under the sunset   
 smell the dawn   
 au travers du cèdre.  
   
 Mur granuleux   
 eye candy   
 the fang of the moon   
 reflects the dreams   
 smiling guitar   
 au glissedo des accords   
 what are you waiting for   
 Neither    
 si ce n'est cette brise 
filtrant les souvenirs d'antan.  

    
  494

   Concert White Dwarfs   
 little blue boats   
 are the chills of the soul.   
   
 To thin clouds   
 the graceful straps   
 list   
 notes of honey   
 installation and removal   
 sovereign thoughts.   
   
 Carefree passers-by   
 curly ringlets   
 under the sunset   
 smell the dawn   
 pearls of the night.   
   
 To the grainy wall   
 eye candy   
 the fang of the moon   
 reflects the dreams   
 smiling guitar   
 at the coming of the agreements   
 what are you waiting for   
 Neither    
 if not common breeze   
 the lifting of memories of yesteryear. 

     
  493

 In the beginning   
 there is agreement.    
  
 then alone   
 sitting on the ground.   
   
 end up being silent   
 when the wind blows.   
   
 And it continues   
 from the ground to the ceiling.  
    
 To feed   
 the flight of birds.   
   
 little hand   
 sharing bodies.  
    
 Placed on the hot   
 skin.    
  
 Brings out the good smell   
 flowers.     
 
 Precious Undines   
 butterflies fly.  
    
 In the light of our eyes   
 the freshness of a fresh morning.   
   
 To write above   
 what light can.  
   
 To build underneath   
 the fabulous spring.  
     
 Full of the face   
 the candle glows.    

   
  491

   Born again again and again   
 in the long corridor of lost thoughts   
 I happen to leave the thread   
 and close my knife   
 once the slice is cut.  
  
 Then remains the cruel destiny   
 to cover it with tender things   
 to force him to disappear under the butter   
 to magnify it with some jam   
 or ride with a piece of cheese.  
    
 I notice that night has come   
 the spirit suddenly free   
 dive into the dream   
 trail of unmentionable secrets   
 O gluttony fully assumed.     
 

  492 

   On the stream falls the rain   
 pickaxe pickaxe   
 from the peaks to the sea   
 roll the future   
 from the sea to the source   
 the memories flow back   
 childhood bubbles    
 mirrors of hearts     
 Stardust   
 tough on clay.  
    
 Beneath the metonymic arrogance   
 of an astronomical time   
 stuffing a green tambourine with   
 the high waves   
 from the harbor pier   
 water drops 
 sculling   
 as the grain passes   
 braid the mucilage of our eyes   
 fresh watercress of hope.  

      
  490