Nuit passée    
Au calendaire des obsessions    
Ai vu le jeu des morts et des vivants    
Arguant de l'arc bandé    
Dans l'entre-deux des migrations.        

Vibrating arrow unchecked at the tip of the poplar
The crunchy leaves at will
Baked at hue à dia
The Brands of War
In the mouth of the demiurge.        

pigeon flies !    
And aim at me with his red eye
In the outraged theater
To direct the chorégies of a plain chant
Towards horror and devastation.        

Apples of your eyes
Designating with a stroke of rimmel
Cheekbone lift
In the confusion of a rice powder
Evening in Paris as if to laugh.        

Plugged in then unplugged
Flowed from Marylène's eyes
The caramel shadows of a winter sky
Solving the rebus of hearts
Shattered by the shrapnel of aficionados.        


1004

With four hands
Show me the thumb is missing
And that the alpha and the omega
Are no relief
That in case of sharing.       
 
full beard
Little mouth without lips
I saw that February night again
Greyhounds of my childhood
Currents across fields.    
 
My tattooed body
Masterful waves of Gavrinis
Wise ripples appeared to me
In the bay of Morbihan
On the rise of the tide.        
 
Shapely head
Haloed by a monetized bistouille
I believe in a happy God
Eye to eye
At the fraternal passage of the recumbents.        
 
And comes to me
The pruritus caused
By the long seat
waiting in the sun
flapping wings
Like little arms
In the shade of the ash trees
At the south gate
of the building
immaculate son
Earth eyelids
Half resurrected
Along the horizon
To hold the real
Thick and strong
Under the span of the two worlds
One delicate and willing
The other proud to have found the key
Words the essential order    
Dressed in a suit of circumstance
Sometimes touched
But carrying snow
On the ashes of oblivion
That the imagination incinerates
In times of great loneliness
In the east of each face
Recalling the rock
Topped by the lighthouse    
On the other side of the presence.    
 
 
1003

Souffrant de l'absence    
Ils se sont posés sur la ligne de crête    
Dans le champ des morts    
A la rencontre des étoiles.        
 
What do we see from there ?     
Où la langue épelle les derniers mots    
D'un mystère sans fond       
Encillant l'envie de vivre.        
 
Ne parle-t-on pas d'effacement    
Alors l'axe du monde approche 
Au centre de cette quotidienneté    
Devant laquelle s'incline le Boiteux.         
 
Il est un jour    
A vivre ou à perdre    
Où le langage porte en terre sacrée    
Le bouquet du printemps.         
 
Un visage    
Ça se voit    
Des racines    
Point    
Juste une épaule    
Effleurée de la main    
A l'orée de l'enceinte    
Alors que la voix    
Creuse l'air    
De nos égarements    
Quand semblables  
A un lac qui se vide    
Les eaux boueuses    
Grouillent de vie    
Hors d'atteinte    
De l'asymptote    
Aux alliages reconstituée    
Alors que cela se boit    
Monsieur    
Pour que charitablement     
Lever le verre    
Soit l'acmé de l'égarement     
Produit à petits cris    
Aux suçons de l'esprit    
Espadouillés      
Dans le face à face    
Avec les fosses profondes       
Retournées    
Sous l'ondée énigmatique     
De l'enfance des hommes.        
 
 
1002

En bout du chemin    
Le passage des hongres    
A serti les barbelés de crins fins.        
 
Point de repère    
Juste l'odeur de suint    
Imagerie obsidionale des oppositions.        
 
Naguère la roche métamorphique    
De creux et bosses compressée    
Fut soleil retourné.        
 
Navré de n'offrir que des mots    
Nous eûmes la délicatesse de monter à bord    
Par temps de mauvaise mer.        
 
Quand soudain    
Ombre furtive au ras des eaux hurlantes    
L'Homme apparut dans le fractal des origines.        
 
Sequential jerk
Dizziness enjoins us
To meet the father.        
 
Tonight
She will be there
Not knowing where to go.        
 
And I will embrace it
In extreme gravity
between the eternal worlds.        
 
A fine rain
Will cover his tongue.        
 
The past at your fingertips
Will deploy its colors.        
 
The blue of the sky
Will eat the clouds.        
 
I will see the blackbird
At the back of the garden.        
 
Il épellera mon prénom    
Jusqu'à ce que le nom vienne.        
 
The laughter will ricochet
On the crystal of the lips.         
 
Between the reeds
The bee will shiver the dry leaves.        
 
We'll slip out of the nest
Waiting for the Dawn Tetralogy.        
 
Rigoureuse    
Faisant ciller les yeux    
Elle pénétrera le saint des saints    
En grand apparat.        
 
Moi l'enfant de mai issu d'une plaie    
Je retournerai la peau    
Pour inscrire quelques mots de Rimbaud    
 Sur le dos de la cuiller.      
 
1001


 

Trapped in usefulness
help yourself
Renounce
be stronger.        
 
Do not judge
The Friendly Rival
Tell him
To lay by your side.        
 
To isolate
Silky, wordless melody
The moult has taken place
Lifting the veil.        
 
little sign
No idea
On paper
A coffee stain.        
 
A vital question
Then our origin takes shape
In the heart of the heart
The light will enter.        
 
With a caressing voice
To be doomed to loneliness
No offense
To the great advertiser.        
 
Give before you die
Your head to the victims
And laugh at your anguish
forever buried.
 
stay close to me
Christmas figurines
Inhabitants of the happy streets
From Luceram the beautiful.        
 
Le Retournement    
Élèvera le corps    
Sur le pavois    
A la vue des assaillants.        
 
to give up
Educated and living for good
Returns all alienation
Inaudible in high winds.          
 
Take a step back
On the hopscotch of eyes
women and children
Coldly arranged.       
 
Absent
But giving off a smile
The void will no longer be to be probed
The void of the last frame.        
 
The stones speak
The concert
The movement makes its way
What about the next day ?        
 
Then suddenly
Everything would start again   
Singing
The supporters' song.        
 
won't stay
That the absence of having been
some time yet
Among the living and the dead.        
 
To leave the story
Some reach legend
Narrating heaven and earth
In the light of come back.        
 
Wise and rebels
You'll pound on the granite slab
signs of understanding
At the height of judgment.        
 
let's go on
But don't say a word
Of this immorality
To be immortal.        
 
 
1000
 


 

Seesaw
front back
On Grandma's rolling seat
To lead to the snow gate
Under the silver tree
Of the Regent Opera
The summons to love
This participation
At the Gathering of Witches
My sisters
From behind the spring hill
Daffodils and narcissus
Perfuming the air
From a stream of money.        
 
Clopin hobble
At the tip of the Pont des Arts
I recognized the march of the stars
To point the finger
The furtive hug
In the morning
In spirit permission
With Poseidon
From the basin to the boats
marshmallow mouth
Laughs
In front of the metal chairs
dancing carmagnole
With the puppets
From Alice's Castle.        
 
We agreed
To climb to the top of houses
In conclusion wise
Hearts seeking hearts
Bronze wall lights installed    
On this double life
To build in freedom
Things so special
What are singing stones
At the passage of "blessed be"    
august metaphor
Prompt in its impulse
To figure eternity
In the fittings of blooms.        
 
( work by Manon Vichy )
999

Etre capable    
De souffler    
Entre les omoplates    
Le son d'une guitare    
Aux ailes étendues.        
 
To be able
to open
The second part of life
At the borders
Of what alters us.         
 
kiss his son
Whereas before
To be drowned in her sobs
would have ravaged
The couple and their descendants.      
 
Se raccrocher    
Aux branches    
De cet arbre mal foutu    
Alors que de fixer le regard sur la poignée    
Jamais la porte ne s'ouvrira.        
 
Silence    
Quand ébranlé par la douleur    
Il faudra rentrer chez soi
Lettre lue     
Pour la métamorphose du papillon.        
 
998

Ce matin    
La retenue d'eau s'est offerte  
De nature    
Au cœur de terre    
A faire se lever le printemps    
Dans le glissement de l'air    
Hors de la faille.        
 
Then come back
Beautiful as the day
moon dream
Under the stars of Têt'Cho
To the Admiral
Straight as an I
Crunchy prairie apple.       
  
Fléchissant le genou    
Devant la Croix des amours profonds    
Ils ont tenus    
Offrandes à hauteur de poitrine    
Les récipiendaires de la nouvelle portée    
Emboîtés telles pièces d'une poupée gigogne    
Dans l'enceinte du grand Chêne.        
 
Coule    
Eau de mars    
Hors des vasques principielles    
Allant de degré en degré    
La conscience claire    
Vers cette prodigieuse descente    
De l'autre monde jusqu'à nous.        
 
 
997