1
They
had the effect
of ash
and
they contaminated the humus
Despite
everything that had been done
men
made
furrows
thrust
their hands into the embers
But the
wrong
was
deeper, much deeper
Despite
it
“mankind
has said
Enough!
and has
begun to move”
In the
meantime
we go
on snagging ourselves
on
fear, on justifications
Oyster
shells
go on
swelling
their form
around
the hunger
of
others
still
we are incapable
of
shouting or letting our chests out
Ours is
the time of the few who prey
“I may
die tomorrow
but
others will take my place”
The
idols saw him leave
and
wept
2
A child
not yet 5 years old
dies of
hunger:
violence
to the people
Equitable
and sacred
supply
and demand
A fat
man bursts
engorged
inside his cheque book
The
plateau secretes its coyotes
its
elevated buildings
its
mink coats
its
cadillacs
The old
ladies drip
their
pity tottering
at
their charity balls:
The
pain is of great antiquity
but
not eternal
Ours is
the time
of
plunder
Yes
“mankind has said
Enough!
and has
begun to move”
3
We are
usurpers of the easiness
of
buying food
Across
from us is another face
full of
hunger’s disease
I am
afraid but not terrified
Terror
conquers man
Man
subjugates fear
I am
going to stand
in the
eye of the wind
to kill
my flesh
Then I
intend
over
the ground
to drag
myself
To
place my name in the roots
to bury
those roots very deep
in
the watertable
From
the highest peak
the net
will stretch there
that
holds our dreams
4
“I may
die tomorrow
but
others will take my place”
A girl
weeps
in her
bereavement, abandoned
His
eyes were eyes
as an
executed man has eyes
Again
the sun is out
It is
not a tree
which
casts the shade
It is
the wood
You
must not be confused or cry
The
rose germinates
and
climbs
protected
in the underbush
Young
men take themselves off
by the
uplands
or
by the lowlands
And
down from the hills
come
torrents
of
geraniums
which
salute you
clenching
their right hands
People
go on being automatons
even
when their knife
of
death
rips
more
audible
in the
mid night
The
street’s corners hide
in the
house of the sun
The
multitude howls in terror
Friends
give
their
arteries
to the
wolf for nothing
and
appear then
on
pedestrian pages
busted
by bullets
There
is one response only:
Violence
5
“I may
die tomorrow
but
others will take my place”
His
eyes were the eyes
of an
executed man
The
asphalt wept fire
in his
side
In the
meantime
all
of us
say we
enjoy
our
crust-of-bread paycheck
We are
contented and lower
our
heads
to his
death
content
to sob hypocritically
It is
not ours, this waiting time
His
burnt throat
propagated
the morning which half unbends our fingers
Silence
slaughters dreams
All is
absence
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