THREE BERRY PRESERVE

theevildead-:

by Le Souffle blanc [on parution

The refusal comes from afar. When life becomes
something that we experience, the nature
so fleshy that cry transforms sideration
of resonance. Remember of all that moves.
The sky also
carries faces. Unattainable.
Black and shaking. You.
Night,
deficiencies that occur hundreds of times.
All nights are only memories.
The stars are completed. The harpoon in mind by the pier.

The glass is half full. Ices. Fate
all dreams too. Audited. Truth. The wedding
of so many migrants legends in the form of steam.
Disorder contradictions bordering cliffs
but I cling to your name. Your vertebrae.

So it is safe. A glass
an expectation in front,
in the night beyond which relies
in hearing a pin nose. Everything happens
as if things should be bypassed
not to burn in the ice that opens.
I have a nevus navel. The soul that stirs the sand.

The curtain on the glass door halos crystals
concretion close to saline notches phosphorus
without ever disturbing. Conviction. Absolutely Sea
until the end of the night. Maturity shadows slow
hostage gossamer. The space away all traces of town.

The space was canceled.
Distension.
Distance.

There are only rocks as grievances
silent and debris fragments crashing.
The drone of a light bulb is crumbling. A refuge.
This light brown around your eyes. This ravine
in compensation. With the wind. The full wind
in the empty air but not meaningless.
Root of the polynomial, the source of the thinking.

The fainting. It is with the black that we grinds.
This is with black that one is start again. Something
intense. A very existence. At the back of the room,
the flow of water from a sink. In front of the sea
How can I forget the hours ? Lethargic,
it is more a reflection. I must enter the wait.
The very notion. Moisture. Spread the word to open

impotence.

A will without will