the sill

m ate red action’s h

ot wall et les «fatals

ciseaux» in my pock

et opened ,a coin ,like

my mouthed stone green

cools my leg ,so my lucre’s

other’s ,and free of my change

...Je mourus...Sans laisser de cadavre.

- Paul-Jean Toulet

the bucket

cet pied ,your setting

chair deglutante a

glove ,defocused ,foco

de piedra ,where yr

shivering thumb ,rai

sed to the ear ,re

fought the war ,lutte

inmiscible ,of yr cor

nered sleeve ,em

belesada ,sin brazo

ya ,scrawls the word

,de l’air fungible ,que

cobra forma ,y al

zapato entra

...ce chemin de nuage...

-Paul-Jean Toulet

el dedo

ent er we ll ,o sot

ilesa ,for ma tunda

w ,hat yr s hack c lun

g sp ill ,or spell the

sh aper were yr t wat’s

ingasping  .ful minar ,el

f oco lazo ,in mantado

lag o sweatlip shave

for me incáustico ,the

fl uttering m out h ,mot

h m old ,twin of s

lathered mi roir or es

pejo pellejo ror rim ex

zematic ,chuff c huff

yr sorweaty sad dle g

lue  .mime the b reath

held clod ,o mimo en

el zócalo caído

...en la región más transparente...

- Alexander von Humboldt

the sill

spelled the fork hairs

twisty stone nostril ex

recision des écritures

hiératiques grunting

on the fallen wall

...et tu m’écrases...

- Théophile Gautier