Red dirt under the snow  
 for the black of infinity  
 towards the whiteness of events.  

 Traces volatiles  
 under the crystal of movement  
 the frost cracks.  

 Large Cipher Writing   
 sometimes encountered   
 inside the mountains.   
 
 Lost on the edge  
 the child against his heart  
 squeeze the viaticum of beautiful thoughts.  

 Consuming without consuming  
 the height would be to believe  
 and make it look good.  

 In the dark of ink  
 there is the void of space  
 this page of pure silence.  

 For the moths  
 point d'obstacle  
 just the revolt active clasp.  

 The cobblestones of oblivion resound  
 trot-menu of the genius of passage  
 on the white linen of the poem.  

 It crunches underfoot  
 the veins of illusion are declined  
 at the jump of a void of air.  

 shuffle the cards  
 make a big fire  
 love is tap dancing.  

  ( Photo by Caroline Nivelon ) 
 
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