[Poé] Below (my work to come)

Five – four – three –          two                   one

Let things settle down, let them pervade the shallow self – yours, mine – holes appear, another veil of normality

On the surface, right on the eyes, babbling layers of everyday

Made of old fear fabric and old future, antiquated expectations and knee-jerk reactions

Apparently much of the same – a veil of use day after day, strangely familiar (it shouldn’t be)

Let the pen down

Meanwhile, below

Below


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Icy waters boiling, currents drowning past home and century – drought, flood, acceleration of time – strengthening old bonds, effortlessly, in books read and secretly written – books without hands – below, under the skin of consciousness, many crawling voices through multiple bodies, calm

Here are the haunting tracks of

Loads of people, hugging drive and need and thirst, yet not empty – flesh souvenirs, lived atmospheres to the surface, friends gone but real, helping you to take over from a Prince (whatever the success!?) – you, inherited love, so many faces and so much care

Above, below, inside, pouring from in/ex (?) – nevermind – from restricted areas, and what is that now, new electronical eyes? No more, not yet

Let the pen down

Let things come alive, again, don’t write at all, not yet – except for the needs of everyday, the technical, supposedly – let the pen down for a month or so, and no music either, no computer – just ive less, less – and let the abyss synthesize

Let other doors be opened wide – new life starting, a new country, a new boyfriend, new caravan, musculature – and lo! change does not wait for you, it embraces who you are, upstairs

Shave your head or let hair grow, share your flat or pluck the door

But the last thing you want to act upon is flow, rhythm – let it come, this way it will, it will come soon

In your own face – face  ||  un fracas monstrueux

How the words are now coming anew and fresh, some banished forever, some are given a fresh new start, punch lines, forefront – for no reason got they a second chance, for no reason – under the rain, happiness, alone but not really, pain, feels good, laughing so hard my voice is gone

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Oh, here it is

Back and kicking – but changed – my voice has changed

Electrified and young, laid on the stairs of its irregular – new sound, slightly modulated, one hidden surgery – she speaks another tongue – and then

The Rapture may not be tomorrow

Just slide on how I am, now – not knowing about spinning neutron stars

Scarred and lymphatic – colored in thousand changing rays – the secret node of communion, the raw material, principle of my faith, essence of the Evergreen, from its red kernel cones that spring

Laid here by the Name and Messenger of godlike destinies (2 = 1), forger of worlds unseen, whistle of Time, player of maelstroms – laid here with 27 seven cables of steel interwoven in one solid new song

For you I’m in a Kataphatic mood, phase 1 – I see! – phase 2 – a singing tongue

Of light
                                I am,                   you          are                                       love

                                               they too                  and I and                     

she                         just kisses me, softly

Through joy, joined hands, forcing the net

Large swaths of childhood mine infusing adult life – a writhing soup – a large cauldron – of partial truth, uncertain value, time needed and time spent, time lost but never truly lost

I sense now – already – the slow anaesthesia of my imagination

And I suspect – take a bowl, take a gulp, fuses, changes – suspect the form

Of all the work to come

My work to come the fight, oh God, the FIGHT

Puff puff, okay, okay, let’s do it then

Okay, it’ll be fine

Your work to come – our work to come – and oh, below

Your voice has changed

[Poé] Empyrée noire

La nuit du ciel, corps déshabillé de jour

Ô porte sphérique, ocellé bandeau
Sur lequel apparaissent les
Grains de beauté universels

Cicatrices ténues et sans nom
Que laissent – cautérisures – la chaîne et
Les sels de l’amour

Belle Sciure de lumière ! Caresse
Le visage d’un Sarmathe ou Viking
Tendu vers tes reflets pulvérivores

De la rétine éphéméride baiser
Porté d’on ne sait où, quotidiennement
Au flanc de la planète

Déesse à l’épaule braceletée
Au front tacheté dont la peau luit
D’être infinie, avide et mûre

Couverte uniquement des piercings
Multicolores – des piercings de minuit
Et elle nous jette

Déshabillée de jour, jette son corps en pâture

[Poélovée] Reddition (extrait)

Je te donne en caresse les dix lettres uniques
De mon alphabet digital

À la tienne, j'offre ma plaine caudale
Où se dresse mon échine
Comme une chaîne volcanique

Sur elle assure ton emprise et d'autres places fortes
Sont là – portes entrouvertes

Sous forme de main, je parcours une forêt de
Lianes fines

Mon désir dévisage le tien
Incarnés tous deux en gerçures... enfin

[...]

sept 2012