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 .   


 
316

 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 .  


315

 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 .


313

 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 .


314

 Mind Sever
 the current no longer flows
 like many others
 the escape .

 From the same to the same
 listening desperation
 the throat swells
 and is silent .

 From Vincent to Toulouse
 the mirror abolished
 finger snap
 on busy zinc .

 Raw to dry
 under the blood of hot lands
 a charcoal between the teeth
 the stark quest .


309