I dreamt of you gipsy
and our abandoned child
amidst your wilderness
the centre is huge sorrow
and I knew your eclipse
way before you were born
the too many cities beyond deserted shores
where does the sea go
that goes out
the passing voices unheard
the thread of letters unbound
the muted shrieks inside the womb
the silent ash
the god is quiet
S/he howls in me
rippling my waters still
but in your denial
I shall be redeemed
in fleeting truths
I' ll go again
and on your naked stone
I shall build
the untouched
the unfound
the unthought
a fluttering of day
night dust
the gliding of dawn
and I' ll lie
dreaming
at your door
NB: French version in ' Amour, French pieces , rêvé de toi, tzigane'
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trips
Poetrytalking about trips don't trip don't move don't groove sitting in street poverty such cross nailing you down in the tomb of lost paradise eating at your brain your eyes your infinite holes piercing the guts of well-fed bourgeoisie never gave you...
