Rolls a cigarette of air
The mute girl talks:
It is art’s imperfection.
This impenetrable speech.
The motor car is truly launched:
Four martyrs’ heads
Roll under the wheels.
Ah! a thousand flames, a fire,
The light, a shadow!
The sun is following me.
A feather gives to a hat
A touch of lightness:
The chimney smokes.
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In one corner agile incest
In one corner sky releasedleaves balls of white on the spines of storm.In one corner bright with all the eyesOne awaits the fish of anguish.In one corner the car of summer’s greenerygloriously motionless forever.In the glow of youthlamps lit too late.The first one shows her breasts that kill the insects that are red
Would you see
The contours of lifeOr be truly dazzledBy the fire that fuses allThe flame conveyer of modestiesIn flesh in gold that fine gestureError is as unknownAs the limits of springThe temptation prodigiousAll touches all travels youAt first it was only a thunder of incenseWhich you love the moreThe fine praise at fourLovely motionless nudeViolin mute but…
I. Soon
This one is the ugliestOf all of my ways of beingTo be trusting is the bestGrass pushes up snowLike the stone of a tombBut I sleep within the stormAnd awaken eyes brightSlowness, brief time endsWhere all streets must passThrough my innermost recessesSo that I would meet someoneI don’t listen to monstersI know them and all…
I have not always had this certainty, this pessimism which reassures the best among us. There was
have not always known well what I wanted to say, but most often it was because I had nothing tosay. The necessity of speaking and the desire not to be heard. My life hanging only by a thread.There was a time when I seemed to understand nothing. My chains floated on the water.All my desires…
‘Little child of my five senses
Let us cradle our loves,We will have good children.Well cared for,We will fear nothing on earth,Happiness, good fortune, prudence,Our lovesAnd this leap from age to age,From the order of a child to that of an old man,Will not diminish us.(Confidence).
A face at the end of the day
A bouquet of naked rainEvery ray of sun hiddenEvery fount of founts in the depths of the waterEvery mirror of mirrors brokenA face in the scales of silenceA pebble among other pebblesFor the leaves last glimmers of dayA face like all the forgotten faces.