pris dans le prisme
de l'immobile transparence
guetter
la gravitation des bruits
autour de nos oreilles
la gravitation des sons
autour des rythmes insonores
guetter le son épais
visible de lenteur
qui ne tient pas dans l'air
n'arrêtant pas de tomber
'post-me' poem
poems with you start like the breeze on wild shores
there's salt in each verse and their words taste
like lips smeared in chocolate
before breakfast
poems without you are houses
ripped off at night by thieves
they are the empty souls untouched
by God
tombstones forgotten in winter
*
some poems are poor and some
are rich
some open the door some close it
some are bonnie and clyde
some jane and john doe
and some don't even rhyme
between two words the voice
loses its balance
glides on its reflection
in corners flashes of shadow
the speakers the writers buried
and in the mouth
the forgotten taste of crushed vowels
honey,
tonight I shall disappear
at 12.00 am sharp.
I shall leave behind
both my crystal shoes,
the keys to your palace,
one vague sense of disbelief
a couple of unwatched sunsets
a few piles of neatly folded silences,
the red roses you nearly bought on my birthday
and the corkscrew
which you will
most probably
need.
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