Does the window screen have to be blurry?
Does the water only wet the grounds?

Does your face have to be a fade silhouette?
Gray form in the twilight.

Do I have to wait for dawn to bring light?
When the darkness opens me to your light,
When we fall in the pit of a golden fire,
When we hurl.

In some mischievous twirl,
Does the pit ever spin in heaven s own gray fur?
Do you ever dream of meeting me,
Do you ever imagine us facing a spoon?
And laughing with dozens of lights,
All mirroring songs.

We sung some night and fell.
We laughed and laughed
Tripped on one an other
And the bells and the shells, and the far sing along
Riddle, riddles with envy,
To our bodies that spill.

The sun burns nothing
Compared to the burning of lungs
That smash on the sidewalk.
The upper glands glow
As the ears turn red and I swallow.

You dance and dance,
You don’t move an eye,
As the pavement disappears.
The Indian sinks in the sacred circle
And lost are the eyes.

Open this throat and find the silent scream
That enlightens your caves.

The throats disintegrate and the echoes
Float.

Why wouldn’t they?

A larynx made out of wood.

Don’t you know screams are never heard?

We scratch elbows.

The skin shines in the back of the Cadillac.

You missed the point, she cried.
Every turning point leads to the same place.

Sink or die.

As far as the body knows, it has no place in Heaven.

So why bother screaming, she replied.

Return, he said.

Come back, she cried.

None of them really knew what they were talking about.

Glow in the dark was her response as she cuddled the bear.

He chose to glow in daylight and from that day nobody ever noticed him.

They were all queuing to enter the rooms of darkness.
The queue was long. The queue was so long.
The days were growing shorter and shorter so there was little chance to fit in everybody.

She counted on that.

Violent rounds of changes, agony.

How does one give birth to an idea? He asked.

In convulsion, replied a tortoise and crocodiles drown.

Her spine flew across the ground. Like a circle of fire, it crossed the room and left burnt the eyes.

Any daughter moves like a fish, I have seen her spine once, that very morning I knew her essence as a mighty woman.

The eagles have caught fire.

No one will be forgotten.

The eagles have taught us to fly,
As we remain grounded.

Darling, have you heard the news, tonight? They have found the truth.
How good is that?
I feel so ashamed, did they mention me?
I love this man.

His skin is like gold.
His shoulders are like wheat.
My eyes meet his eyes.
His nipples blow the sky.

I see him all the time.

Everywhere a golden filter filters my eyes.

Everything I see has that same golden glitter.

I am torn apart and all I want is more tear.

I have ripped this entire cage.
A thorax torn with a right hand,
From which a bird flies out through the heart.

And the tear is repairable.

And the tear is repairable.

And I walk with a hole
That slowly shuts itself,

And I walk shameless,
I think,
I don’t know,
I think.

The tongue is stiff,
The tits are dark,
It is all there,
Inside us many cars drive,
Chatter and beep.
The headphones violate the message.
I hear the dream,
I grasp the feeling,

I perceive something.

 

 

October 2006, Seattle.

 

 

sommaire