la nuit est comme la caresse du papillon
parmi des mots déchirés d’oubli
ses lettres brûlent encore
ma peau mes rêves
glissent silencieusement
sous nos prochains réverbères éteints
another proffesional begger
the saxophone gathers up its dreams in match boxes
I could swear that I have memories only of you
flying our nights with sales hunting the presence
of a sure morning
an antropomorphic indian dance of pure dreams
inside one midnight
if we didn't know we could dream
would we dream?
"Oublier en avant" - Ed Jacques Bremond, France, 2002
les mythes
commes les pierres
quelques lettres non déchiffrées
sèchant au soleil
je tourne la tête
ce mot
- disparu
au coeur de la pierre
la plus dense obscurité
le pouls des pierres
l'instant qui rend
insupportable la cohésion
de la matière:
les grains de sable sont nés
ayant oublié l'unité de la pierre
passe
le spasme de la pierre
passe
l'onde
indolente
de l'heure
I was wondering if the scarf made last year
feels warm and soft to your neck
holding above the chin I have bitten and kissed
or
if the Victorian blanket I knitted
covers well your knees
the ones I caressed when they were sore and bruised and bleeding
or
if you’re still listening to
the carol I sang in a lower key
(circular)
there pivots Prima Ballerina
upon her pleated tutu
the alive layer raised the black flag
then
the dead layer raised the white flag
to do the wave
for the grandstand
(centripetal)
the Stadium still-life printing
the fliptomania
hands holding out to cling
to the caterpillar track-pirouette
(centrifugal)
the Merry-Go-Round
was shredding its vertego
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