Red roses

These red roses come from the extremest pole of my thirsty nature
and the petals are still breaking my densest stones so much
for you, future lover

springs are something you do well too
extremely well from pole to pole between bodies
uncompleted to begin with and without

I shall drink while uncovering the ruins of the guitar female
pure alcool of oblique skin strings expected as if bridges
for you, future lover

over-un-over unique untrenched works of flesh diction and contradiction
cry y
for you, future lover

over
these red roses
to begin with and without
nude roots of me e geometry of discoveries
the nudest reality focused on serious energy
the nudest me is knot of tales to be silent
flowing skin as if f
my eyes row and row bare eyes cry y
untimely cry y
over for

PS: a sunset boulevard must land at the heart of the uncharted page of love. I go by precious, I like yellow. Nothing I do well. Acting against words, real, anywhere.

in-trans-today

we are all travellers
and all travellers
are in need

in need

clashing

Open your notebook, empty your bottomless beauty of all ashes,
your lips are ageless red stars
flashing
in need
through
yellow tired kisses
melting in the air
in need

Write it down
audaciously
Put your mouth on the center of Today

Roses

Here are the roses from my burnt wings
they should grow on you so much

like seven full moons flowing down the red hills of silent desires

Could you drink it?

MORE

The more than the more. I should set fire to every stone. Only then could I find some peace in my stomach. So uneasy and inarticulate are my first signs of motion. And well fixed on the rivers my coming hands. Nude is the time towards which...
The further than the further.

écriture

"Les signes ne comprennent pas les cygnes."

Mais il n'y a rien de compréhensible dans les cygnes en dehors des signes. J'avance dans la compréhension de leurs ailes, plumes et migrations par les signes que je lance à leur poursuite.

Je ne suis pas un langage, la vie ne se loge pas dans les textes. Quoiqu'il soit presque vrai. Il est beacoup de matière et de force dans les symboles qui coulent dans mes veines, par exemple le symbole "Toi", "Moi-à-Toi"... Ce symbole m'y injecte et la vie s'y enchaîne sensible et excessive. C'est bien cela "moi": un signe qui frappe sur la peau pour trancher ou nourrir ou quelque chose d'autre.

melodias e outros líquidos

em redor do corpo dança o fogo. seus ciclos eólicos de unir.

minhas mãos mudas desejariam muito esse fim líquido como se fossem uma língua de areia e nada. desejariam muito meus olhos paralíticos a ciência, o método, a arte da melodia que flui com duas vogais dolorosas em busca de um instante. um instante somente seria tudo. navegar pelo fogo. é aí que as alianças dos lábios se fazem e desfazem.
careço de subir e descer ao ritmo certo dos sóis possíveis, oscilando para o mais-do-que-sol.
tenho também grandes feridas subcutâneas que crescem de noite e que dormem somente com carícias de luz

waters

"I am a woman, I die at every breath." And every song enlarges my madness.
I find no happiness in land or in waters. I do understand not the bare voices of my masts... always in quest for bodies... ever-away ever-living... there wings wounds... like scattered birds in my veins... upstream, downstream... full of fruits and crescent moons striking the fearless harps... Neither you nor me can leap and touch the words that take madness captive. Birds should talk of love, of those dreamy bodies I am weeping for. Yet they only break songs by songs into circles of ever-living ever-away bodies that sink smoothly as the sun rises... promising to conquer every winged desire... kiss for kiss...
"All that ever loved
Have loved that way - there is no other way"
All the lips must obey the same thirst wholly
or be not in the world.