josee lapeyrere

 

“even while sleeping you have to think” this

is how he made his fortune he used her to unravel

her thoughts in the middle of the night he awakened her then fell asleep

abruptly she kept one eye open until daybreak

 

“that which is essential is divulged to he who exaggerates” he said that

at dawn he realized the beauty of the situation

 

he opened the window and said “it is a landscape

those are morsels of color” it was she who sewed

our shirts sometimes one sleeve was longer

than the other what I owed them and all I had

lost spread out my territory these are all those

who gave me life it is my long procession of debts

 

obviously it is not him nor her who counts

but what happens between them when they are drawn together

does one without the other have any interest?

we were all under the impression that they knew did they know to fancy

each other

let’s not try any longer to find a solution he died

she is dead it is stronger in the feminine we

left again amongst the trees we saw dark profiles

we heard cries they lit the headlights

the night was green already a little bit festive

 

the world was at my feet the city was

a truly beautiful night cut off by the black

wing of the plane below us a void blue

pools pink swimmers and gardens

illuminated other planes climbed the slope

of the sky blinking this man has to be taken

 

from a side angle he needs to believe that it comes from him here

it is a country of emigrants where there are

no natives the city is frontal it watches

the sea and the distant continent yes they treat it

off-handedly their new language they push it around its vowels are drawn out

its consonants stampled it’s ingested it has seen a lot

 

in order for it to cry with them in the ferry no one

listens to the instructions in the event of sinking then

later we take the bus through the countryside

 

I’m here darling I’ll be staying the night

we’ll go and hide on the battle

field with the deserters how dark they seem

lying on the white snow ready

to shoot fortunately there is a red star no

I’m telling you very few people want victory

 

have you pictured what will happen after

the murder when they will come into the room?

 

have you pictured what will happen?

those screams the flight into the hall and coming back

you can’t believe your eyes in front of that hole

 

that won’t close what is it that enables you

to forget while not losing your memory? you draw the line

and yet there is still a consequence the distance covered is

 

never the same no one dared to say it

out loud we were afraid

he hid in the forest until the end

there where “night falls like a tree”

he said to them “don’t die come back alive” so

here I am winters are very cold but spring

 

is always splendid he thought that was too realistic

he wants the fabric on the shelf fabric by the yard without

all those little darts around the bust or even overflowing

on the floor he wants the fabric without the body

but who could get rid of it? it always comes back

 

and is the primary word less tangible than a locomotive?

less tangible than this body lying in front of the doorway?

and are all the others any less than a national house of representatives?