Tuesday, October 4, 2016

Béatrice Machet # 252 temptation-17



# 252 Temptation-17                  

17

Tentation du manque. A dépouiller jusqu’au noyau du froid. Une ivresse cependant. Refermée sur ce qui n’est pas rien. Ô combien ce quelque chose creuse. Toute sa place. Avec boue sur ses bas-côtés d’hiver finissant. S’en va tandis que s’en vient dans les veines les radicelles de l’autre. A bas bruit pourtant quel vacarme ce qui matériellement absent brûle. Vers qu(o)i tout converge. 

Temptation of missing. To be skinned off to the core of cold. Intoxication though. Folded around what is not nothing. How much this something hollows out. Its whole place. With mud on its ending winter’s roadsides. Goes away while rootlets of the other are coming through veins. Almost unnoticed yet what a racket this materially absent who/which is burning. Towards whom/which everything converges.

3 comments:

  1. Inspiring, Béatrice...

    How I miss what is
    right before me
    a glance a moment
    like I am hollow
    or a cloud that
    doesn't belong

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beautiful, temptation and Inspiring, Beatrice.

    ReplyDelete
  3. it's a whole landscape... fantastic!

    ReplyDelete

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.