Saturday, August 15, 2009

QUAILS




Elles me trouvent drôle et se parlent tout bas...

À la Musique, A. Rimbaud


Quails call

Then flush

They will forgive you


Hungry eye

Over the cliff

Where they killed you

With bullet, the hidden ones


But you have bowed

The whole

New world

And no trace will remain


You can

If you wish

Take away with you

Sky and grass and

Trees


Death

Will remain

Whitewashed


The sound will carry you

From wilderness


I've cried before...

But I didn't know


Dearest things are but a

Tremor

Contained in music


You improve in

Shadiness


You learn stunts from

Violoncello


Nights you do not

Describe anymore

They resonate with

Maple tree's rings


And bows from rosewood


Caps and hats

From joyful ode


And invocation of spirits

Goes easier along with

Absinth


And his overcoat may

Roughly

Tickle


All is here

Laughter and tobacco

Smoke and

Stumbling


And interlocutor's fear of

Madness


Rolling of eyes

Directed by a wish too

Decent


Poor man's

Cuffs


And ringlet above his

Ear


You will call him here

Amidst whitened

Spirits


Deprived of mercy

Or playfulness


For, what is concern

Compared to joy of

Revival?


Shadows shun

His palms


I wouldn't know...

But is possible


Where would you go

You beautiful

To God?


My invocation

Confuses her


Maybe we should recreate

Those moments of

Blessed youth


Is it not precious

To live them

Again?


Your aura says

Possible...


But here now we

Unite


And without you I am...


There


And I am not

Merciful


No

You are not

Merciful...


I am not dying


I wouldn't even

Attach meaning to

Thoughts

Or to sophisticated clothes

And words too I pronounce

Just halfway

Joy rips me

Apart


I am ascending


Warm rocks and

Azure


Well...


Where would you?


Into the rocks


With your broken rib


I stretched too much

Painful body

It cracks


I will drink later


On the precipice

Where hidden Apaches

Lie


I will bring cakes

Maybe a book

Scented grass


So you can forget the slaughter


Perverted mohair


And how you used to cut with

Knife


Drink eye-whites


As you melt into

Transparent veil


I will not revive you


I will not choke on

Life


Too soon I realized


White flame in the

Marrow

Prevents duration


And the screaming

Gets even more pleasurable


Finish, however

Your Breakfast


Fake your smile


And drop dead for once


So I can forget about you


While I am


Satiated