Laila Akhyaliyya
"So they hear their sounds and hungry cries
And give them back from that as echo
They bend to the naked heads as if they
Are boy's balls made of rabbit's skin
When the dark leaves them they give them
a drink of the pool nearby never empty.
The name of harshness is theirs and chicks
Make an uproar that is not understood...."
Andre de Bouchet
poemes de Andre de Bouchet:
"- Cession
Le vent,
dans les terres sans eau de l'été, nous
quitte sur une lame,
ce qui subsiste du ciel.
En plusieurs fractures, la terre se précise. La terre
demeure stable dans le souffle qui nous
dénude.
Ici, dans le monde immobile et bleu, j'ai presque atteint
ce mur. Le fond du jour est encore devant nous. Le
fond embrasé de la terre. Le fond et la surface du front,
aplani par le même souffle,
ce froid.
Je me recompose au pied de la façade comme l'air
bleu au pied des labours.
Rien ne désaltère mon pas."
reb livingston
reb livingston:
"Lament for Fronting
O Damsel, how is your torso . . .? How you tiptoe! O Maiden, how is your torso . . .? How your slip shows! O accomplished woman whose benefit now annulled, how do you abide? O Nymphet whose downgrade unnerves your higher priestess, how is your torso. . . ? After your benefit annulled, now how do you abide? After your indulgence, your warmth and interest, how is your torso. . . ? Your tabernacle unworshipped, now how do you abide? Your altar turned to syrup, how is your torso . . .? You are not the prized tulip in a field reduced to turnip rounds. You cannot wakeup beloved in a meadow reeking fish. You cannot pose as impune to those who sowed before you."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)