In autumn light
I will part your lips
~ saving gills
Au soir de notre rencontre
301
En lumière d’automne
Entre mes doigts gris
Entre mes doigts gris
emerge the new day
~ drop of water offered
from one thought to another
the laws of shadow
300
In the glass of dawn
In the glass of dawn
flower of the walls and cat of the fields
~ pending frog
298
Hidden by the snow
Hidden by the snow
the round mirror in front of me
~ I already come to you
299
Adorned with lace
Adorned with lace
a candle on the belly
~ the wings of the gaze
297
He advances the bugger
He advances the bugger
weak scared jerky
~ gray mouse rain.
296
Lit candle
Lit candle out the window at night ~ juste sfumato Ne pas avoir peur from the shadow of words 295
crying in the house
Tears in the house
sadness turns the key
the door creaks
the walls bear the damp
her beautiful clear eyes flicker .
And yet
no trace of ash
life is still hot
among the clouds
that the moon envelops .
A fur covers the fear
of her bare breasts
feeding his soul
the timid fires of speech
become bat flight .
take leave
opposite of the day
when the children are sleeping
when cold sighs rise
like the mist at the bottom of the valley .
Hard as a stone
the unloved pious flower
has become an undone candle ,
shrivelled sheet of paper
under the goose step of a rise of bile .
To the double message of the dream
our arms embrace tenderness
in extinguished fire weather
the walk is rushed
under the starry chiffonade .
In excess of vigor
sluggishness follows
out of the spirit cave
the dark presentiment
becomes a dead leaf .
Ni forme ni visage
in this sowing
the converted woman and man
pass from porch to porch
sign the page of a draft .
Push the door
bring in the great net of imposture
under the laughter of a languid sleep
cross the North Bridge
fear that the tide will take us .
We the wise ramblers
weights of ripe fruit
on the ringing cobblestones
cinglent us souvenirs
without understanding , timely .
A square glow
blow out the candle of the ending day
flowers and tears seize the moment
the sea rushes
I remain .
294
Perpetual burial
The words my mother laughs at sweet field flowers grabbed with an iron fist without fear or nettles to man cover the horizon relics buried with a trowel in the concrete short breaths. Objects dissolve gadgets pile up on the beach a flag flaps its opprobrium the capsule pops in the vestibule of the dying the dog precedes the man the man precedes the soul the day is fading a face pops out like a postcard the shepherd's bag full of onions and dignity to display by the river fresh watercress with a little music without omen but all overhanging the black hole of the past. 293
exactly at the fold
At the fold exactly
between the old and the new world.
That people transform themselves
in self-knowledge,
the inner struggle,
personal experience.
That guides are fully committed,
that they maintain the tradition in their
current fights,
only beings, leaders, masters
fertilize
our future traces,
that they promote by humility, patience
and
confidence our ideals of tomorrow.
What happens to the healers
able to decompartmentalize our strata
constitutive,
to purge our being of the legacies that weigh us down,
to strengthen the body base
for psychological to dimensions
spiritual
join our deep somatic layers.
What happens to the intercessors
the simple ones
the called ones who call
those who do not prove but testify
those who recognize and cultivate our
ignorance
the sovereign alchemists who do not give up
not their work.
Let the necessary novelty become wind
standing
the breath and the light carrying the person
human
on the way to self-growth
on the way to the heart
where it all begins.
292