My ex-time

There is a certain number of days in one year
 I used to count them all
In an endless mysticism I used to follow their procession
Wondering, a little out of breath
When my  glittering fifth wheel will ever reach the sanctuary

Then I slowly started to make mistakes in the counting
Each new day I was waking up as a time complete neophyte
Too bad, when I woke up, were my first words
 I bought a small plastic Christmas tree
I thought it would give me some essential marker.
When daffodils bloomed at its foot so bloomed my perplexity

I began to think of days as a modifiable quantity
I said loud, 876, when will I start the recording?
Then, 290 and 56, are they 567 in one year?
 But it never gave me the right date
Monday is useful
And sometimes I could have needed it
I decided to belittle  the countdown importance of time
To find its consistency

In sheer desperation I made it relative
It wasn't that disturbing
To make it flexible, straight, curved
Abundant, deserted, abstract, palpable

What a chance there is no time lost.

January 2011




 

One way ticket

Moving

Moving around

Coveting the next place to go to 
As a new kingdom to conquer

Each time,
Opening the doors as the promises of insatiable

Wandering

Wandering around

With the joy of kids riding
For the first time

Their brand-new shiny bicycles

Traveling to the supermarket
 And return

A particular taste for risk

Traveling in the supermarket

A particular taste for exploration

The Oreo Bay mesolithic soil is delicate to walk on

Traveling above the cashier desk

The perfume of freedom wrapping up the ladies exhaustion

Traveling from the kitchen to the pontoon

The intemperate alligators
Must lower their eyes

Traveling from resolute cold distance

To astonishingly close intimacy

Traveling from language to silence

Thinking of traveling

Dreaming of traveling

Traveling Spirit as a fundamental rule

With the smile of rascals
 Ready to steal the light

Quietly 
Moving while we were lying down Outside

Moving while we were eating outside

Moving while we could hardly realize

The two of us were here

Existing all over the place

Moving through the epiphany of our contrast
Under the water
 Of our tropical indolence

The only place

Within we never moved

Is

Us



January 2011 

Leight weight

I won't sit on top of any mountain of recyclable letters
The rain falls still sufficiently to cause immortality to fade away
I won't swim in the Holy River
I always liked the taste of lemon when I drink

I won't nod when I want to yawn
The uvula is frail
I'll exert a renewed control over the pressure
I won't plead for my resurrection
The legitimacy of my death isn't yet approved
By enough dark horses

I won't bother my neighbor with my exaltations
I won't ask anyone for the exact weight of light
I just won't breathe until I calm down
I won't ask my neighbor to share my exaltations
I won't explain

It's so late!
I won't ask any question
 About time
Or lost time
Or past time

I need to keep some natural nimbleness in the way to inhale
I won't write on a mountain of sheets
That just are the visible side
 Of a double burden.

January 2011

Hot bath

 
I take very seriously the diagnosis
Of all the fatal diseases
I could have caught
 In the pool of memories and answerable questions
 Taking daily hot baths is not wise
I know that
  I walk above a surprising distance
  Between my feet and what should be the ground
I must make up the weight of the sunset mutism 
There is some kind of point 
That keeps on indicating something
A point is in its very essence disappointing
  How can you trust anything with its location
  As only one property being somewhere
Somewhere is a myth, how could it be found?

December 2010

BMI

I lost some mass

I needed to help the balance
 Between my brain and the silence to become stabilized

I lost one of the two

I must not think it’s retaliation

It’s a simple law

Right by my side, my safety equalizes my vacillations
 With its distinct gravity 

In calculating my loss index, I found a hobby

I’m working day and night on a new type of laughing aerosol

The formula is almost ready

It’s just a question of time and oblivion

I lost some dreams
I should have wraped each of them in a delicate fabric

So discreet I could have mixed them up with the classical wrong side
Of sabbatical fantasies

I lost some dreams

The oldest ones where one adds colors as an habit without
Even thinking of it

Then believes one single body could weight for two

I admit it

I lost some gas, I lost some gas

My octane rating should be far higher

I breath deeply from my hips

That’s why part of my cheeks may appear a little cyanotic.

I lost some mass

My two indexfingers point towards the same waste

I still have what's left with my two hands to scratch each others.


December 2010

Acronym

Bubble of autistic dates
Past is, as it seems, past

Middle of the road
I can feel the blast of trivial but nevertheless dangerous vehicles

Ignorance of what was
And why, and how

But dry-eyed knowledges of where and who.



December 2010 

Alien parlance

When

There should have been no place left for commonplaces

There was no space left for separate spaces

In our Tower of Babel’s windowless conversation

Only a few neglected words still gabbling on its doorstep

You
Spoke to me as if
I swallowed as if

I could hear

And take

And filter

And understand

And change

And adapt

And distribute

And listen

And translate

And speak

 From the moving center of our disparity

Beneath

What underlying axioms could have leapt up?

This will forever stay mute under the surface

In a few seconds, a few words

Changed the apparently

 Two-dimensional levity of language

Into the unplumbed failure

Of some other things

Things?

In each language

A few things are left for ever with no name

Let’s step back into the acoustic limits of our flat screens

Shallowness will soon join in

The barbershop quartet of our indifference

      Doesn’t one blather anywhere?



October 2010 

Two-way Mirror

As if, this is the way you talked to me
Foreigner
You spoke in your eternal language

 And in a slow movement the sense unfolded

Like a larva, slowly became

You never stopped because I was tumbling in the rear

I thank you for this lack of consideration

You shared this language like if it was ours

I don’t have any right to claim

Except to smell my sweat

Not

This is the way you explained

Talking faster  as soon as you were running away
Running away as you talked

The transparency is not a fact

In American English

Either

In a smog of Transatlantic confusion, words turned traitors

Foreigner
Don’t fool yourself

You ran onto the surface of words as if they had one

You thought you were walking on your home floor

But the language took you in its extremely long arms
In the midst of your constant agitation
I watched the distance becoming limitless between you and your words

We didn’t lose any other thing than ourselves in translation

October 2010 

Busy

  Don't ask anything

I'm busy thinking

I'm so busy thinking

I clear up the way while I'm busy thinking

I let point out the next ascent

Clambering up again, soon.

November 2010

Blood pressure

In a frigid and stuck predefined world
I cut myself with a knife

L. is bleeding 

Warm and inflammatory zone
Whatever incredible mistake was made
 I need to forgive myself
I'm here

It's there

There

L., like war is a lonesome experience

January 2011 

Incurable optimism

Everything is fine

I just mislaid the bulb

The Idea

The volatility of girls

They jumped off

How jerkily they jumped!

And clapped their hands

Clap, clap, clap

Making the pulse of the worlds converge

Towards their bursting belly

Joy

I knew it

I lost the joy

The ardor of joy

Crumbled into a hole
In the plexus

December 2010 

Chalk

A sad discourteous ogre is renting my whole body
I think my body belongs to me
I'm wrong

It feeds this sadness with my bones
The calcium doesn't agree with my choices
It runs away to save its integrity
It's not the good answer
It's quite obvious, it shouldn't
But in a so confusing mess

Who am I still to have any right to judge?
Within such a constant sadness, for such a long time

How could a piece of chalk only remember where it should stay.

December 2010

Nest of sadness

 

Where does it stay, I know it
Behind the lips
 And despite the despotic mascaraed of the mascara
Deep into the two eyes
It's a good thing they are not three
A sadness as natural as the morning need to urinate
But lasting far longer
I pee sadness from dawn till dusk
It's a good thing it doesn't smell
Though.

November 2010 

Fruits

People could give it a name
But people can name anything

 I just can keep naming the sadness sadness
It's plenty enough
As I struggle to keep the blue blue through the smog
I succeed, most of the time
And the sadness becomes a blue sadness
Here no hesitation
It's better than no blue at all
I take some time off out of this eternity for exercising
And remembering how I laughed
I laugh
Feeling the thunder in my throat
 I perfectly find out where the sadness stays
 

It's turned into a cyst between in and outside
The dead fruit fallen from a long gone copulation
And from somewhere else
The unbelievable continuance of the fall

I keep on eating stones.

November 2010

Stars and stripes

How powerful are the beatings of the drums
How exciting this unchained army
Your dead soldiers
Dessicated folk
Your solid little tears screaming
The ones you lost in the fever
How mute are the scares now
How cold too
Better the heat
The heat, the heat
Tender victims

Implacable agonizing stars
Exquisite fatal sisters
Your best lovers
Holding them all into your arms

October 2010 

Superlatives for everest

 

How much stronger is your pain
Stronger the devastated emotion
The burning of your nights
How savage the unformulated aim
How carnal the knowledge
The blank hatred
The wish to die
And to make someone die with you

Closing your eyes to look at the mirror
Cynical orphans
Depopulated words
Stuck in a throat full of gravel
Warm, red
Boiling upside down
How precious are the wounds
What a shelter for nowhere




October 2010 

Will come a day

Will come a day
The day of our entrenched betrayal

The day of our incapable memory

When all the signs emerging from the constant beating

The defibrillator, the absence

Standing here like a desperate queen

Sitting on her own crown silent and bewildered

Right on the point of confluence of thoughts

Obstinate underground

Unfinished questions

Will come a day

When your name met in an angle of my screen
Your name met in each angle of my memory

Hour after hour

Dedicated to try to reach you

Through the uranium-baring quarry of your life
The indecipherable familiarity of your body

Waking me up to my cave-woman's purity

All this time and this time and this time

Jumping and scrambling and snaking and swimming

Will become the salt of my buried sea

November 2010

Who?

Then came the question

Who are you to talk to me this way?

I waited and waited for an answer

And you kept on talking to me this way

And I kept on asking

Who are you to talk to me this way?

Wondering why you couldn't give any answer

But you couldn't

You didn't know who you were.

February, the 20th 

Dance floor

 

In a circle
You with me here
Turning in vain
Around the same wounds turning
Endlessly turning, the same sound
The slippery dance-floor oozing out over my center
The rounded pain
Sweet wounds turning
Sweet words surrounding their dance in a circle
 

Like a corrupted blood in the veins of my memory
Drowning me
Some drops of secret ecstasy
Exquisite wounds, my best lovers
Such a wonderful harmony
Drowning you with me
Somewhere
In the circle
The squeaking of our soles
On the dance floor, their morbid sparkles
Creaking.

 

June 2010 

Half Integral

Will remain an H.
A light blow imperceptibly filling the air
An H with no name
Just showing it's still alive with tiny traces of wetness
On the sheets
A breath
The discreet one of a sleeping child
 

But everybody is gone away now
The air is the only one still there
The breath is regularly lifting the breast
Up and down and up and down
In an empty space
Is an H with no clear mission
Maybe remembering it was once a letter
The first letter of a word.
Such a long time ago, a meaning now useless
 

The air is able to stay with no one to inhale it
It was the beginning of a mute moment
But the exhalation of an aspirate H
As an expired letter blowing over an inspired desire
H.
OPE.
The rest of the word is lost somewhere
It certainly found an other letter
Like an M.
M.
OPE.
But what could a sleeping child ever do with it?

November 2010 

Hold

 

Hold me
Take the remainders

The part impossible to sold alone
It's a rest but I cannot keep it for myself
I have no use for it

I constantly stumble on its presence
 

Help me to spread this concentrated blind matter 

Hold my eyes to look at you
Hold my stupidity and my selfishness
Change them into small gifts
 

Hold the lost portion of my humanity
Hold me and open my pressure to some free air
Where it will
Simply
Become microscopic drops of care
And bathe you
Hold me to give you my power of hydrating
The deserts you have forgotten.

September 2010