samedi 12 mai 2012

Message to no soul


those who are dead for us

legs and feet reduced to bones

are they not the origin of our souls ?

dictées par les herpès et les arpes

I would be the bass of incense as my senses mean

and I beg the corpse of life the straight wave, the wagnerian spot

moving always in a fulgurant shadow, this and all I need

forgotten as I am in the mood of universal sex.

To dead I put my spell, to arise before me and talk

to partner me, to kiss me

first mead, and then sweet wine, water mixed with white flour

je l'ai fait tant des fois, to laugh before death and tease her

chaque fois que je respire


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