Path: news.nzbot.com!not-for-mail
From: "wrinklesyournose" <wrinklesyournose@yahoo.com.au>
Newsgroups: alt.surrealism
Subject: To Le monsieur qui ne me repond pas
Date: 13 May 2005 05:03:07 -0700
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So from now on, everyday Ill send you something. It will be like
taking water out of a boat, until its empty and ready to finally go
away.
So very like a flower or the flowing of the air
like the running of a rivulet flickering shadows everywhere
like a smile just barely glimpsed on this magnificent night at midnight
so much like happiness and just like sadness too
it's yesterday's midnight standing with naked torso above
church-steeples and the tops of poplars
I summon to me now all things lost and scattered around the landscape
crumbling old skeletons tops of young oak-trees just cut down
remnants of old rags rotting on the ground and washing still drying
draped on fences around farms
I summon to me tornadoes and hurricanes
cyclones tempests typhoons
tidal-waves
earthquakes
I summon to me volanic smoke wisps of smoke from cigarettes
and big smoke-rings from expensive cigars
I summon to me lovers and all their beloveds too
I summon the quick as well as dead
I summon gravediggers I summon assassins
I summon executioners I summon hangmen I summon airplane-pilots
bricklayers girder-walkers
and all architects too
I summon assassins
I summon living human flesh
I summon the one I love
I summon the one I love
I summon the one I love
triumphant midnight unfolds and spreads wide its great satin wings and
lands upright upon my bed
church steeples and poplar-tops both bend to my desire
the former collapse in a heap suddenly while the latter bow down slowly
things formerly lost and scattered around the landscape find their
bearings once again
in finding them in me
those crumbling skeletons resurrect at my command
those cut-down young oak-trees cover themselves again in bright green
those ragged remnants which were rotting on the ground and even
underground, too,
snap to and flap before my voice like banners of rebellion
clothing formerly drying on fences around farms now garbs the most
adorable women
whom I do not adore
but who are nevertheless drawn to me by my voice hopelessly adoring me
tornadoes whirl around within my mouth
hurricanes bring if such a thing is possible color to my lips
tempests purr at my feet
typhoons if such a thing is possible comb my hair
I accept the drunken kisses of cyclones
tidal waves crash forward and then stop before my feet
earthquakes make me tremble not at all but cause carnage at my call
volcanic smoke attires me in its vapors
and smoke-wisps from cigarettes become my cologne
while the smoke-rings from cigars create my crown
lovers and even long-sought-for love itself take refuge here with me
while also all beloveds hearken to my voice
the quick and the dead yield to me and salute me
the first quite coldly the second with warm familiarity
gravediggers abandon their half-finished holes to announce that I and I
alone can command
their nocturnal labors
assassins too salute me
executioners and hangmen cry out for revolution
invoke my voice cry out my name aviators take their fixes and then
navigate from my eyes
girder-walkers suffer vertigo when they hear me
architects depart for the desert
assassins give me their benedictions
all flesh pulsates at my call
Only the one whom I love cannot hear me
the one whom I love will not listen
the one whom I love never answers.
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