From Poems with No First Names

on tiptoe
the pearl-squalls
a deputation of mock turtledoves
surround an invisible pumpkin
the commas behind the moon
the sky-sponges wipe out the grimaces
through the slit in the screen
we can see the dice barbecuing on the skewers
the fire-balls throw off their hooded capes
in goose-pimples
and break the soft-boiled eggs
in biscuit de sèvres

smaller than the very smallest
the eyes of the void
an interstellar someone
covered with a shroud
pulls out the snow's teeth
long live the snow reinstated
and once more in possession of its white-marble balloons
the nighttime wax
the explosion of the roots

slowly on their four deserts
the gluttonous diamonds devour the fire
the enormous jewish butterflies rock themselves on the sea
the milk of this world is masculine
the libidinous ornaments
the bodices of birds

a slice of earth quickly
a slice of fire quickly
for night is coming on
with its wick of blood

a drop of man
a smidgen of woman
complete the beauty of the bouquet of bones
it's time for an aubade
in the fur of fire
the wind arrives on its four soles
like the horse on its four wheels
space has a vertical fragrance

space has a vertical fragrance
the wind arrives on its four soles
like the horse on its four wheels
it's time for an aubade
in the fur of fire
a drop of man
a smidgen of woman
completes the beauty of the bouquet of bones

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