mercredi, décembre 08, 2004

Only In Paris - Abandoned Metro Poems

Page 69

J'ai su demeurer ici
Poumons gorge
Ma chair se gonfle
Mes mains deviennent le mot soufflé
A même le corps d'instincts
Brûlé mollement sur l'encre

J'écris une lettre
Fragile en son point d'appui

I found out how to remain here
Lungs throat
My flesh swells up
My hands become the whispered word
To even the instinctual body
Weakly burned into the ink

I write a letter
Fragile in its fulcrum

Um, okaaaay.....

mardi, décembre 07, 2004

Only in Paris

After a long day working in the high rise suburbs, I limped up in my impractical shoes to the only available seat on the metro platform to await my third train.

There, abandoned on the shiny blue plastic, torn away from its companions, were pages 63 to 74 of a collection of poetry.

Page 64:

My body reclining like a blade of grass
Thinks that the day lasts
The law of these effects is infinite
I find myself again in the creases of my eyes
Breaking the illusions
Dissipated in writing

"You know, don't you, these days that go by without anything happening."

Mon corps allongé comme une herbe
Pense que le jour dure
La loi de ces effets est infinie
Je me retrouve dans les plissures de mes yeux
Cassant la figure des illusions
Dissipés en écriture

"Tu sais, toi,
Ces journées qui passe sans que rien n'arrive."

Now by the time you read that three or four times, I just bet your train comes in.