for Robynne
In her right hand,she held seven stars,
delicate and forever. In the phantom daydreams they handed each
other nightmares undressing in the dark. At the end of a few
hours, a delicate bell stretched over a wodden egg and climbed
into her bed. The clouds rose and sank back into the housework as
the ocean depths tickled its plumage, closing over its glassy
eye. "Who has the stars made of stone", the forest
pronounced. Skinny children sleep tonight, their lucky star is
sick at heart. it had long been clinging to their strength by a
polar wind, withdrawing from circulation. Audrey is quick to
understand. Misled by the silhoette, the white slippers of
tempered lamps notice a beautiful alce canary. The bells ring
faster under the courage of planets, concealed by the motionless
jaws, despite their always emptiness. Forever unknown, the sudden
evening descends under the lunar mountain being destroyed,
unbearable on the heart but fearful in the face of the pale
explorer. My flame-clad beauty transcends horizontal in
magnificent sounds to the openhearted feeling that time is
slipping away in the midst of this sweet smelling kitten. Having
kissed her two or three times in the midnight sun, with the
tongue of dead stars, beneath the cities of laurel leaves, we
walked dining on my loves colour. The heavy rains and the bedtime
shutters blindly stirred the smell of innocence. With a great
love he commited the worst crimes causing the rabies to shiver.
Calculations are reading in his eyes, shaking off the powder from
our lips in the briefest words. The ladders of childhood games
understood what we were saying. The copper swordfish wept for the
countryside, trembling the hour of awakening. The dear child
should be appraised. Teeth clenched from the inside the building
went to work in sad intoxication, alternating with concerts on
holidays. Atmosphere exposed, arranged by an early bloddstained
spring, to the delight of his examination, whose been seen once
more between the smile. Sometimes hypnotized by the surface of
the sea I avoid living where old age finds us in magnetic dreams.
The sound of the half deaf piano gazes once more out the same
window contemplating women's rare pleasures that still remain to
be explored.
$t. Mathieu