I have driven the troops of the House of
Austria from the corridor of wind and storm assuming
indescribable postures in the most intimate manner beneath her
sea-spine I can still see the clinics of long trains we have laid
down our arms at Nordlingen in an attempt to reach the false
Messiah by the tremor of lips illuminated by Christ’s death
I lost my way several times in the long corridors and upon the
crossing of one of the central galleries I was confronted by a
strange spectacle I alone had conquered the grammar of dreams
after the victory of Baylen which prudent minds might have
anticipated when love has become a tempest of cries slipped
almost entirely between the couple’s legs a certain father
in the church told me Man is dual, we are all two men within
ourselves In each man there is both a devil and a memory of Henry
the VII we had not succeeded in taking Valencia her large blonde
hair eyes carried out my orders as I have already said now I find
myself lost a second time enfeebled dwindled disappeared and
resounded in all directions then the band of flesh animated the
heart of the most illustrious leader the visions which had
appeared to me one after the other had reduced me to a train of
artillery I admit the Spanish should defend the great waves of
memory from the depths of a six month night whom I left in his
charming cell I step out of this flowerbed fashioned from stones
and rotting meat flies buzzing from flower to flower searching
for sweetness we must draft a Declaration of Rights on the ruins
of Victory in order to hide his fall how I said to myself can I
have existed so long out of touch with magnetism captive for this
life I exist on equal with the sun moon and constellations I was
the supreme feature in the genius of Napoleon and admit the
excellence of orders issues by sensuality to save myself I took
to believing that the weapons which were employed passed on the
staircase generator of dreams it would be necessary to leave
behind ten thousand wounded in the obscurity of transparent
shells slowly making their way home at dawn painting immaculate
brothers with confused shadows of Spanish bayonets all is over
all is ended it is now my turn to die the great conqueror was
deceived a clear sign of her pleasure
45
Houses Contributers