we imaginate

leaves under rain
bend into bowls
and mini-seas form

seaweed tugging at the bottom

we pass over the earth
and things like mounds of dew,
captured visions
at the end of blades
whisker away from shatter

we imaginate
pay for solitude with cloud cover
and distant closed eyelids

Leaving Furniture

a waste of time
has no address
surprising
with so many people living there
moving houses

no day for taking out rubbish
no lawn outside
but many of the same corridor floor
walking and walking

the dust swept up
by a promise of
stereotony
sits
amid the lingering brains

cannot tell
who does the waiting

it might just be the conjunctions
checked out
of empty rooms

leaving displaced
thoughts
with heads hung back
and eyes closed

Une Amibe dans un Boyau

à la fois
on a visité la rue entre les immeubles,
un chemin pressé de béton
on a trotté le trottoir
avec des pieds mouillés
on a imaginé un zéphyr chaud
qui nous chuchotais des ponts qu'il faut traverser
un jour

ce jour
on a épinglé le ciel sous la terre
afin de pouvoir lire la carte de la voûte céleste
dans la boue sous nos ongles
on a entamé un passage
vers des empreintes pas laissées.