mindbombs

found:




(when she guessed a wrong letter, she had to take a shot?)






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Vigilance
Andre Breton

In Paris, the Tour Saint-Jacques
Swaying like a sunflower
sometimes against the Seine
its shadow moves among the tugboats

Just then on tiptoe in my sleep
I go toward the room where I am lying
And set it afire

Nothing remains of the consent I had to give
The furniture then makes way for the beasts looking at me like brothers
Lions whose manes consume the chairs
Sharks' white bellies absorb the sheets' last quiver
At the hour of love and blue eyelids

I see myself burning now
I see the solemn hiding place of nothings
Which was once my body
Probed by the patient beaks firebirds
When all is finished I enter the ark unseen
Taking no heed of life's passerby
whose shuffling steps are heard far off

I see the Ridges of the sun
Through the hawthorn of the rain
I hear human linen tearing like a great leaf
Under the fingernails of absence and presence in collusion
All the looms are withering just a bit of perfumed lace
A shell of lace remains in a perfect breast shape
I touch nothing but the heart of things

I hold the thread.