from Sea-Shell Laughter

collage poem
the whole thing had flown away

he rekindled his shirt
the erection should nevertheless have led him to the chest
that is to say he feared more than anything
loud rooms

the bed slept a profound sleep
he tugged at her skirt
she moved a few steps away
and picked up a pebble of love
whose real name is moon-food

she mimicked the calculation
got up and sat down again
but daydreaming about the absence of the heart
she would content herself with coughing two or three times

the rosary of chance
across the room
the sixty expiatory tickets
on the shirt
on the smiling moss
drained the voice

without firing a shot
two pairs of feet walked away
all the dogs were sneezing and grimacing

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