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Malcolm de Chazal

Selections from Sens Magique

When the creeper
Seized the branch
The branch bent
And the flower
Stuck out her head
To see what was going on.
The trees
Are climbing the hill.
Let a sheep climb it
And the trees
Will stand fast
The fog
Stopped riding the rain
And fell off:
Light itself
Had dropped to its knees.
As the pupil
Turned its eyes
The iris followed along,
The white of the eye
Lagging behind.
Even so, haltingly,
You feel your way
Into the depths
Of the face you love.
The leaf
Is the palm of a hand
Whose fingers
Keep burying themselves
In the flower.
Runs away
From everything else
To keep from being eaten.
Only the earth,
Consumed by everything
But devouring
Its devourers,
Can take care of itself.
The circle
Never stops
Gaining on itself.
Only the center
There are only two joints
To the thumb.
If it had three
Your hand
Would always arrive late
Whenever it reached out
To touch anything.
TV came into the world
When Narcissus
Made a postage stamp
Of his own reflection.
The road
Speeds on and on
To give
The sidewalks
Time to rest.
Shade addresses light
With ordinary courtesy
In the open field
But beckons to her
In the woods.
The water
For the earth
And the earth
For the water.
Whenever it rains
You can hear
Someone swallowing
And someone chewing.
Swimming in the nude.
I turned to stare.
Was already shimmering
Between us.
If the Apostles
Had been crucified
With Jesus,
Would have ended up a philosophy
For lack of priests.
The white crying
Of the lilies
Chilled space.
A red bird
Flew nigh.
White burst its
Summer was snowing.
To spy
On night
Sleeping all by itself
Look for her
In caves.
The unconscious
Later it found itself
Lying on the grass
In the gardens
Of memory.
The air
And shattered.
It was the H Bomb.
When night falls
Go out
Of coming
And going
The wall
Sat down
And grew old.
Feeds on itself.
Nobody else
Wants any part of it.
The air
On the shoulder
Of the evening.
The wind
Drove it off
And embraced
The night.
Only water
Can kiss water
Full on the mouth.
-- translated by Irving Weiss

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