Oh you dear companions Electric bells of the stations song of the reapers Butcher's sleigh regiment of unnumbered streets Cavalry of bridges nights livid with alcohol The cities I've seen lived like mad women (The Voyager)
Is it a world in the making that turns as it whistles to the depths of my being It is burning Suppose it were to appear A bleeding rosary at the window a sun setting on the marshlands ("Silver Clasp")
A bouquet yellow like remorse Hurts my view The cage The wheel The vile ennui of all mankind And no one no one to break my chains! ("Outcries")
In the black chaos where the seas and the skies become confused let the projectors blow their white trumpets of silence ("Roundness")
Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles] It's me And who is the poet writing this poem? That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles
The man slips along the stoically congealed houses Perpendicular like them A moving ornament Burning fiction His fragility contradicts the duration of his torments
Do you remember the long orphanage of the train stations We crossed cities that turn-tabled all day And vomited at night the sunshine of the day ("The Voyager")
The City is free of sin The snow has given it absolution A man who slips A horse that falls Oh no, the city is in a nightgown
Midnight" The hours glide Like drops of water on a window pane Midnight silence Fear unrolls in the air And the wind hides at the bottom of the well OH It's a leaf We think the earth is going to end Time stirs in the shadow Everyone is asleep A SIGH ...
An unknown force is calling me Perhaps the voice of that star perched on the last height Perhaps the desire to see the spaces that conceal Europe
...And we left the light for the night of the street
ZENITH NOON beats out on its solar anvil the rays of light
New Song" For You, Manuelita Inside the Horizon SOMEONE WAS SINGING The voice Is not known WHERE DOES IT COME FROM Among the branches No one is to be seen The moon itself was an ear And one hears no sound However a star unnailed Has fallen into the p...
Morning" SUN That awakens Paris The highest poplar on the bank On The Eiffel Tower A tricolored cock Sings to the flapping of his wings and several feathers fall As it resumes its course The Seine looks between the bridges For her old route And the O...
This constant basso on the horizon is it the waterfall or the cannon ("Poem")
POST Not a head stands out A finger rises Then it is the voice that one knows A signal a brief note A man leaves Up above a cloud that passes by No one goes in And the night keeps its secret
[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality. (cristaux deposes apres l'effervescent contact de l'esprit avec la realite)
Gardens are poems Where you stroll with your hands in your pockets. (Les jardins sont des poemes Ou l'on se promene les mains dans les poches.)
