Monthly Archives: March 2016


may he be cursed the one who says that only the evil man
obtains all that he wants in this life
or that good girls go to heaven bad girls go where they want to
or that all good people are killed if they are not stupid enough
to be accepted as servants by a corrupt power
and that the poor ones have to stay with the soles of their feet sticky
with their skin offered for bartering
may he be forever cursed the one who says that it is so

a world tailored by Machiavelli a world priced by Mephistopheles
you sister world free and loose world
all of you climb and get over bodies from other bodies over souls from souls
over saints from saints and parents
stairway of little bones stairway of small candles

I went a few days ago by trolleybus and all of them trod on me
and pushed me and yelled at me that I did not step down in time
while it was them who did not let me step down from there
let him be cursed the one who says that only those who push are not pushed aside
”allons allons pressons/ pressons sur la gâchette/ il faut bien que tout le monde vive”
I was walking with a leisurely gait and a young Gypsy girl pushed me with her body
in a pedestrian passage where we were only the two of us
all of a sudden she hit me and spitted a few unfaithful words like Saint Peter
and then jumped like a little goat with both feet right in front of me
the wild life scientist says that all the creatures of some order
display their power and dominance
of course the childhood with softly-colored angels is gone
and gone are the tears for the lame little dog or for White Fang
for the little orphan Rémi for the little match girl
for Jean Valjean who dies alone after tens of years
in the service of good
what’s been left apart from the drop of blood in my tears
while others wail and scream like hyenas?

let it snow over the man who keeps silent
let it come once more the time of Herod the king as it is written in the stars

”Il dit non avec la tête/Mais il dit oui avec le cœur
Il dit oui à ce qu’il aime/Il dit non au professeur”
I open my windows because I have no one to talk to
to let the sun come in to kill Koch’s bacillus and other germs
undiscovered yet

Categories: My poems in 2016, Uncategorized | Tags: , | Leave a comment


I enter my church sculpted in a mountain of salt
with its pillars standing on the left and on the right
with their black lodes and gray bead clusters
my shoulders hitting the scratched pulpit
with godly out of limit thirst

I bow down
in front of those already forgotten
of those keeping their words never murmured
of those with split heels for whom a caress brings pain
my eyelids palpitate three times
and once again for the sake of the man who learned not to cry

turn around human face
once you were a young man with too long fingers
once you were an old man with milk teeth
look at me as if I were the noose that you used to hang yourself
and never died

Categories: My poems in 2016, Uncategorized | Tags: | Leave a comment

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