Sœur   frère                                                                                                                                                      
bouche à l’irréparable                                                                                                                                                
le dehors pue                                                                                                                                                                                         
  le dedans                                                                                                                                                             
c’est toi

                           à la lumière d’agonie

lente     lente                                                                                                                                                    
tu sais                        oui                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
 et tu ris jaune

∗∗∗

Jours clos                                                                                                                                                                           
tu                                                                                                                                                                              
et seule­ment toi                                                                                                                                                               
ta seule fraî­cheur                                                                                                                                                         
entre les mains

nous                                                                                                                                                                                                    
a comme dis­pa­ru                                                                                                                                                 
invi­vable                                                                                                                                                                
nous                                                                                                                                                                      
si proche pour­tant

∗∗∗

Regarder ailleurs                                                                                                                                                      
mais où                                                                                                                                                                                  
jour à sa pâleur                                                                                                                                            
ago­nie                                                                                                                                                                  
corps à corps

beau­té                                                                                                                                                                 
avant le délai

                            dis­pa­raître

 

Crache le sang                                                                                                                                                                        
de la véri­té                                                                                                                                                                                  
face qui res­pire                                                                                                                                           
où elle peut                                                                                                                                                    
ombre et lumière                                                                                                                                               
à leur dis­pa­ri­tion

crache le sang                                                                                                                                                              
de ta lumière

∗∗∗

Il n’y a plus d’encore une fois                                                                                                                            
che­min per­du                                                                                                                                                          
en avant en arrière                                                                                                                                           
aller ne suf­fit plus                                                                                                                                              
notre main n’est                                                                                                                                                     
que par des preuves

l’avenir tous­sote                                                                                                                                            
contre le mur 

 

∗∗∗

Derrière nous                                                                                                                                                      
ce qui souffle

           devant

l’inhabitable lumière

la lampe du guet                                                                                                                                                       
en plein soleil                                                                                                                                              
comme éclat défi­gu­rée

∗∗∗

Nuit noire                                                                                                                                                              
qui se res­serre qui étrangle                                                                                                                           
terre hors de por­tée

la vie                                                                                                                                                                  
est l’œil du regard
la source                                                                                                                                                   
main­tient la soif

∗∗∗

Demain                                                                                                                                                             
ce jour comme en trop                                                                                                                                   
ce que je vois                                                                                                                                                      
m’obscurcit

monde par oubli

la main qui le rap­pelle                                                                                                                               
s’essouffle                                                                                                                                                            
à durer

∗∗∗

Au-delà du regard                                                                                                                                                                        
un appel rauque                                                                                                                                                
vers qui                                                                                                                                                                                 
la râpe des mots                                                                                                                                                            
est comble                                                                                                                                                     
râpe des morts                                                                                                                                                           
étran­gère                                                                                                                                                             
à son silence

 

∗∗∗

Les mots                                                                                                                                                                
n’auront rai­son de rien                                                                                                                                                
frag­ments gla­cials                                                                                                                                                  
intrus                                                                                                                                                    
impasses

impasse

∗∗∗

Nulle part                                                                                                                                                                                    
cet exil peut-être                                                                                                                                                           
reste d’une eau pure                                                                                                                                              

seul                                                                                                                                                                
point lumi­neux

monde de face                                                                                                                                          
encore                                                                                                                                                           
et qui tremble

 

∗∗∗

Lueur                                                                                                                                                                                   
dans la lumière fac­tice                                                                                                                                                            
lueur si faible                                                                                                                                                         
aphone

                 lumière d’aujourd’hui                                                                                                                     
qui heurte

∗∗∗

Jour                                                                                                                                                                         
au plus sombre                                                                                                                                                             
à por­ter le souffle                                                                                                                                     
portes ouvertes                                                                                                                                                 
le pas                                                                                                                                                               
ce jour poreux                                                                                                                                                              
aura tran­ché

le temps à son usure

 

∗∗∗

Dans le secret du monde                                                                                                                                       
veiller l’attente

tel que le mur                                                                                                                                                    
son épais­seur                                                                                                                                                      
est l’ombre

la terre y boit                                                                                                                                                                                 
l’air peut res­pi­rer

la fenêtre s’ouvre

∗∗∗

Debout                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
à res­pi­rer   

                          vaille que vaille

ma sœur   mon frère                                                                                                                                                      
corps déri­soire ano­nyme

tire le jour                                                                                                                                               
jusqu’au bout de toi

∗∗∗

On n’attend per­sonne

l’impact est der­rière soi                                                                                                                                                       
le vent tré­buche                                                                                                                                                    
on y voit plus clair

                                on ne regarde pas

c’est gris                                                                                                                                                              
c’est flou                                                                                                                                                                            
seul entre les mots

∗∗∗

C’est net                                                                                                                                                      
c’est clair

on n’échappe pas                                                                                                                                         
on n’avance pas

vers qui                                                                                                                                                       
vers quoi

je posi­tive