Angel
The Cemetery of the Harlequins
The Route Aux Cyprès
Earthenware clouds raised with mother-of-pearl
My brush bends my spine like a horse cab
I sketched the moon on a night canvas
Leaving my fortune to the keys of paradise.
Wind of watercolor
Oiled bushes:
Carnal palette
I am no longer a rainbow
I feel that my friends are at the end of the road
They tell me that I hold the sky in their hands
br/>But my sick fingers crack at the confines of the old
I felt the barrier from which one sees with one's eyes!
The heart coated with wine, I vex my cirrhosis
And with a stroke of charcoal, I ejaculate a dose
Dose of narcotic that the gods have served me
In the den of my shame the shot of fire?
(Text: Christian Decamps)
Editions CHAPPELL