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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-02-27 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] | Inscrit à la bibliotèque par Alexandra Mihalcea
I can stay awake all night, if need be --
Cold as an eel, without eyelids. Like a dead lake the dark envelops me, Blueblack, a spectacular plum fruit. No air bubbles start from my heart. I am lungless And ugly, my belly a silk stocking Where the heads and tails of my sisters decompose. Look, they are melting like coins in the powerful juices -- The spidery jaws, the spine bones bared for a moment Like the white lines on a blueprint. Should I stir, I think this pink and purple plastic Guts bag would clack like a child's rattle, Old grievances jostling each other, so many loose teeth. But what so you know about that My fat pork, my marrowy sweetheart, face-to-the-wall? Some things of this world are indigestible. You wooed me with the wolf-headed fruit bats Hanging from their scorched hooks in the moist Fug of the Small Mammal House. The armadillo dozed in his sandbin Obscene and bald as a pig, the white mice Multiplied to infinity like angels on a pinhead Out of sheer boredom. Tangled in the sweat-wet sheets I remember the bloodied chicks and the quartered rabbits. You checked the diet charts and took me to play With the boa constrictor in the Fellow's Garden. I pretended I was the Tree of Knowledge. I entered your bible, I boarded your ark With the sacred baboon in his wig and wax ears And the bear-furred, bird-eating spider Clambering round its glass box like an eight-fingered hand. I can't get it out of my mind How our courtship lit the tindery cages -- Your two-horned rhinoceros opened a mouth Dirty as a bootsole and big as a hospital sink For my cube of sugar: its bog breath Gloved my arm to the elbow. The snails blew kisses like black apples. Nightly now I flog apes owls bears sheep Over their iron stile. And still don't sleep.
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