we know nothing
we knew nothing of grief
the bitter season of cold
digs long furrows in our muscles
he would have preferred the joy of victory
wise under calm sorrows caged
unable to do anything at all
if snow fell upward
if the sun rose to meet us during the night
to warm us
and trees hung with their crown upside down
if birds were here with us to contemplate themselves
in the tranquil lake above our heads
WE COULD UNDERSTAND
death would be a beautiful long voyage
and an unlimited vacation from the ﬂesh of structures and of bones.
It is true that I believed in the immense privilege of living.
Each step ampliﬁed in me old but always mobile adorations.
It was a tree, the night, whole forests of roads,
or the sky and its troubled life, certainly the sun.
One day I saw solitude.
At the top of hill, a horse, alone, immobile, was planted in an arrested universe.
So my love, suspended in time, gathered to itself in one instant its petriﬁed memory.
Life and death completed each other, all doors open to possible prolongations.
For once, without sharing in the meaning of things, I saw.
I isolated my vision, enlarging its borders inﬁnitely.
I left for later the concern of seeing what one was to see.
But who could maintain that the promises had been kept?
look at me and be color
your laugh eats sun for hares
squeeze my body between two thick lines
let famine be light
sleep do you see we are heavy blue
antelope on a glacier ear
in the stones
lovely frontiers—hear the stone
old ﬁsherman cold tall on
new letter learn the girls
in iron wire and sugar return
long time the bottles are tall
like white parasols listen
roll roll red
in the colonies
memory odor of a clean pharmacy
joyful horse and cereals
baggage obscure menageries
bite saw do you want
horizontal to see