A Man Vanishes

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Once she bit me until I bled.
Snaggletoothed.
She looked like a mistress,
Something warm.
the entrance.
someone’s lover.

When I read his love letters…
happiness,
That was about 1958.
they were together.
Couples don’t feel true
disappear suddenly.

She’s weakened.
hardened.
Ours is a fictitious story, too.
She insisted that I never
I could never switch over
I still feel that emptiness.

She does look at herself
resemble the photograph.
with dust and hairs.
a camera.
that itself is a truth.
It was kind of love triangle.

The physique, face, cheeks
somewhat unnatural lines.
She poisoned him
Once… no, a couple of times.
A body usually surfaces
They weren’t arm in arm.

It’s been so long.
be in need of someone else.
very fragile.
celestial world.
If she stops haunting him,
The photos reinforce it.

I had a nightmare last night.
in the daytime.
we weren’t intimate.
that I suffered for nothing.
Men often meet your gaze but
But it’s a disgrace to

His memories would be clear,
trusted.
But not last April.
Date of abscondence:
before marriage.
being photographed

He didn’t come in April.
why he vanished.
He also had his feelings.
and is tanned by the snow.
He may be unable to face things…
This is nothing to me,

You starve for human contact.
since he’d trusted her.
So in place of your mothers
You were inside.
It’s a complete mystery how
She killed him because she

At the time she acted
always walked to the station.
No one is here for
somewhere.
Even at inconvenient hours,
disgrace for her family.

“I can’t live without you.”
She didn’t notice it.
I can only say that life is
telling lies.
She seems to have lost
In other words, you are

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La Pointe Courte

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I’ve nibbled enough on your memories.
Calmly.
rather like maternal love
that rots our nets so fast.

Here, I can feel the strangeness
and yet this is half of my life.
there’d be plenty of corpses by now.
The heart never gets enough.

He’s in love.
But your mind changes all the time.
not your grief.
less external, not so fragile…

Yes, because the moon’s in the canal.
what we call ”our love”.
to be shared, not torn apart.
to weave crowns for it

A shipbuilder builds boats.
I love differently.
The emotion, discovery, desire…
and how heavy an affair is.

The mistral’s blowing again.
I know you by heart.
nothing will ever undo us.
True. The other years we traveled…

It’s been 4 years.
Swimming.
Resigned, reassured…
I’ve loved you for just as long

The fever of your kiss
I saw it grow
nature gets its revenge.
the secrets of the landscape

he’s stealing your weariness.
And I can’t get over it.
And my heart rises…
in these boatyards.

I spent my childhood
as an old orange blossom.
I’ll find my spot there
and keep it under glass.

If you were lighter…
if the secrets are happy or sad.
I don’t feel trapped.
You listened to me like I was

We’re no longer madly in love.
he had a pain in his hand
5 days. It’ll soon be over.
don’t feel the time slip by.

We’ll go for walks.
I always used to cross this way.
You devour, with closed eyes.
Me, I’ve decided to live alone.

But when I see you
Nothing…
She forgets everything…
A couple’s secrets

When I began to love you…
You’ve no need to think of me.
They threw the fine in the sea.
Since then, I love you even more.

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Death by Hanging

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Your body felt so heavy on mine…
The trapdoor opened,
and fresh lilies are set out.
around. Your heart is soaring.
The body has limits,
over her white skin.

I am R.
with her in his heart.
Carnal desires…
The curtains are dark yellow.
a shallow mound
Shaved ice tastes great

the Japanese name K,
You undress her in your mind.
Your skin touches her’s.
swaying back and forth.
AS IF VEILED IN A DREAM,
No, just night sweat.

His mother was mute.
departed this world.
riding toward me.
his sadness has lasted forever.
But she calls him R,
Her scent wafts to your nostrils

the altar doors stay closed,
It leaves a mess on your hands
on your cheek.
She thrashes around.
strokes and stops.
R’s soul is no longer in him.

his mother’s muteness.
You’re caressing my chest.
THE WORLD IN MY HEART
expands without end.
I like sex, but I can’t
the noose can’t be undone

I read lots of strange stories.
worked in an undersea mine
I imagine pulling at her swimsuit,
That night I was hard as a rock.
See how it glimmers,
But I remain innocent

she’s always just a photo.
All that remains
has been etched onto this skin.
R’s soul has departed this world.
He will endure these hardships,
dyed red with blood

to feel sexual desire,
the back of the neck,
The heart usually stops
we become murderers.
She’s clinging to the security
that I didn’t mind dying.

I feel carnal desire.
with both hands.
The rope passes through a pulley
descends the stairs.
You stare at her.
Why would I eat a sweet bun?

pray to the Lord.
whose skin isn’t scarred.
R just touched her.
R FINALLY BECOMES R
Something like
The prisoner’s awareness

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A Gentle Woman

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My real torment
It’s a rending, burning agony
It will take 4 or 5 years
Gentleness was replaced by
A hit, a very palpable hit

I wanted a solid happiness
hope for marriage
It’s me. Look
what rosy cheeks!
They bleed on both sides.

All that time… I suffered
cared for her
I knew she’d return
She seemed beaten, humiliated.
Museum of Natural History

I kissed her wildly,
through the curtains
something else
trippingly on the tongue
more and less,

The bed proved I had seen
Millions of women…
The foul practice hath
a poison tempered by himself
repulsing that boy

Winter passed as a time
I love you
air of silence
pierced my heart
You keep the Christ,

This great air battle lasted
with space and sunlight
Open your eyes.
every bird is predisposed
in thy heart,

She had rejected his advances
Take her to the sea
or to the mountains
Do you know what it is to suffer
leave here forever

He has my dying voice,
I’d made out a few words.
you’d leave me
painting, and this
The poisoned cup; it is too late.

If it hadn’t been the flowers
out of hatred
How beautiful they are,
to tell my story
to the unsatisfied

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The Man Who Left His Will on Film

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the scene goes white
Like clouds were racing by
You were watching
That morning, he embraced me
obsessed with illusions

Just flick the switch
and ask him to forgive you
Without speaking,
Is this your lover’s
consciousness

Ownership is a betrayal
different flags
into the sky…
But the camera makes it
Like water flowing

He’s in every landscape, and…
As soon as it got dark,
The wind doesn’t blow
Then everything goes blank
He committed suicide

He slipped away
He was always silent, and…
…splicing pieces of waste
It seems like history is
somebody else’s girl

No, it was all an illusion
dragging him out now
linking meaningless shots…
It’s just junk and more junk
Watching the way you

I had been embraced
… things were quieter than
His funeral
That’s how films become
…and they are lost in the sun’s glare

a gracefully dancing couple
You had your eyes open
…we were just moving
It’s just sad to realize we’re
That was nothing

reality and the creative self
Your room
from the armored car…
It was like the wind blowing
It’s too beautiful

It’s a miserable landscape
There must be something here
… his sense of image was
films
and deeper

This is the film my lover
camera left
by paradox
It’s just a waste film spool
There is no such person

I should have changed
You could film landscapes
…right before my eyes,
Then the ideal film would be of
your usual self

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Harakiri

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An ill wind means the end
I clung… to these worthless symbols
Yet… I close my eyes
sweet sugar
only to embellish the surface
both these hands empty

However… even amidst such misery,
two companions,
he sowed his own seeds
he dares pretend…
Yes… it shames me to recall our life
with its proud traditions

He wisely took advantage of the winds
but he suffers such great pain
and wept…
He has expressed such a desire
Indeed… the days and months flow past
soaring overhead

Your touching tale is of no use
A refreshing breeze
merely glosses the surface
The widowed kite puttering about
I am in your hands
Useless tokens…

A lone and solitary figure…
The bamboo ex-warrior
is like swimming on land
I continued to wait
The words of a man heading for Eternity
A samurai shaming himself

The years passed unrewarded
Show the blades
A most commendable wish
There is nothing… nothing we can
could never reach our hearts
Archery will not help us

The sun of numerous mornings to come
made light of…
He cannot live on air alone
It’s futile to fight the tide
it must have afflicted him
May the glistening sands long reflect

A skilled master swordsman
bringing up his young one
which is a warrior’s soul
A strange coincidence
And there are others…
and my hopes are crushed

But we waited in vain
only bearing blades of bamboo
Our lives are like unto houses
Ravaged by raging fever and in a coma,
Though words be unnecessary, I would explain
An end befitting a true warrior

Swordsmanship untested in battle
I bow to you
To death robes
To re-enter your mansion
things will continue
to die at our door

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The Bride Wore Black

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Not a single woman.
MOTHER VERY ILL
position of the legs.
the way that some nuns do
Looks like a tramp.

I’ve been a very lonely soul.
her Prince Charming…
You’re trembling. You’re cold.
bang, bang.
I’ll tell her you’re gone,

Despair over love.
Well, if you insist.
pull the bolt toward you.
close both eyes…
at her naked body in a mirror.

Sexual relation.
And when it’s drained,
Nothing.
your deepest thoughts.
They’re falsies.

dreaming I was in a movie.
The curtains…
on the tip of your tongue.
Don’t move your body.
It has the smell of earth about it.

And now my impossible dream…
to break up…
I suffocate.
I’m being torn to shreds.
I’m already dead.

I’m imagining you with different hair.
rubbing against each other.
No, you can’t sway me.
You owe me an explanation.
this little piggy had none.

I noticed her legs, not great, but nice.
so here’s to you and me.
I don’t need you. Wait.
It’s possible.
He shot himself in the head.

I remember something.
You said you played hide-and-seek
I’m the one who locked you in.
I feel like dancing.
and never see each other again.

The mountain.
Look, it’s empty.
You know, the star.
Oh, her. I just saw her back.
The sun was no longer shining.

six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
That’s the sound of nylons.
and a stick of chalk.
That stupid woman gets things wrong.
Losers are made, not born.

Artists, they say, are immoral.
Get my scarf, and I will answer.
The next time we meet.
to look at the rooftops…
You’ll permit me to buy you

The lady who came here.
who admires me in secret.
You said good-bye and left.
That nature imitates art.
I was wearing white.

It slammed shut.
It’s my secret.
You’re rather hard on me.
I won’t put a hand on you.
somewhere.

The red button?
The loot.
The two of us, together.
but with all these corridors…
one by one.

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