Chacal et corneille : pas de sang extérieur ni interne
entre eux. Au loin se dessine une dynamite fumante.
Leurs contours, qui ne tiennent qu’à un fil, déjà prêts
à quitter le noyau de noirceur, revêtir un aspect provisoire.

Au-dessus d’eux des bulles de discours qui dérivent, bande dessinée
qu’on feuillète sur la plage piquante et venteuse. Et la grotte moderne est fermée.
Le temps se dégage. On comprend que le photographe enfoui
jusqu’à la ceinture est fait de bronze et ne cadre personne.

Flaring in epithelial darkness, as if bitten
by a rabid, magnetic gesture—
all at once—body, converted to hydrogen
all at once—hydrogen under pressure.

Magnetic pressures, within and without,
the bear hibernates in a lush’s cranium.
When the room starts to spin, the bear rushes out
and deposits itself for a glass of uranium.

since morning the street was lined with
glass towers chiming like salami
dangled from vacuum

from any vantage transpicuous
intersections of buzz and breeze
          (nerves) as
if all’s about these: contacts and contracts
ring and if anything sting

A jackal and a crow. Blood neither shed nor shared
between them. The dynamite, nearby, is armed.
They are barely contours, prepared
to escape the kernel of blackness and assume a rudimentary form.

Above them, thought balloons are floating. The cartoon repaginates
the seashore, windy, dry as bone.
When the rain falls, it becomes clear the photographer, buried to his waist,
was welded of bronze and focused on no one.