JACQUES ROUBAUDthose nails. as they do not reach over
which silent slopes pairing with the light
into that which must be named with a name.
deducing from something white maybe
settling by the door and face to face. is it
but to say that. the line must go on shining
drawn into gold geometry. or if
here and now i tear out my eyes
as i make sure i’ll wipe carefully
the world, so that they refuse nothing to it.
—jacques roubaud
Ice In
he is eating some ice with colour
which has no average breath
of mountain nor average mountain
nor anything that would hold or arrange
continents in itself.
but adding his eyes such as they retract
the earth. or change location
under a small sized surface
damaged. by resins possibly
or verbena. ahead of words hanging up.
—jacques roubaud
Everywhere the
everywhere
under objects
grass
detrimental. with
an extremity of music they
surround themselves and with an extremity of music
they bend the grass with their
language. thus the
top spins over
sand. or
flour. it used to toil
along the memory of a line