Thursday, November 16, 2017

Les petits riens



Je ne suis pas dragueuse
mais de tête sérieuse
pourtant quoique je lise

il n’y a que des bêtises
qui me viennent à l’esprit
comme le petit rien que tu m’as dit

Les crises globales me font de la peine
la violence et la souffrance
ni s’arrêtent ni se freinent

Pourtant quand je danse
la musique m’embrasse
je regagne la paix, la joie de l’enfance

Et les petits riens que tu me dis
chassant la douleur
soulagent mon cœur
quand le jour me fait face
et la grâce laisse ses traces









photo: silhouette at sunset, Promenade des Anglais, Nice





Monday, November 13, 2017

So There, Baudelaire




I’ve been told I have a beautiful spleen

by a doctor in a white coat

who was supposed

to know about such things



When he told me I was strapped

to a gurney in a small

windowless room planning

my own funeral aloud

to shiny and flat objects poking and placid

tilted this way and that listening



When he told me he smiled

his cheeks grew round and rosy

like a schoolboy on a sled

hissing through snow

down the biggest hill one more time

after being called home for supper



When he told me it seemed as if

it made up for everything else

he would say and I felt so happy

I skipped out the door into the sun



to shout to the stars hidden by the light

                                              “I have a beautiful spleen!”







Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Haiku





                         
                                                 
                                                                           


golden pears mottle
rain gleams on vacant streets
crisp! the autumn wind