Saturday, March 4, 2017



From hand to hand

I no longer think of anything but the night

The long thawing winter of sovereign thoughts

Now that the circuit is closing

A dead star drags a fire without sparks though the black sky

Cold hands unshackled but always at a cost

A timid distorted glow around the unsheltering hearth

At the roundabout of failures

Destitution      paler than an egg

Against the battered fence      in the foul breath of hate

I walk the parched trail of happiness

The distance open to its hour

In the furious rattling of links shaken free

Desertionless days held back with a chain

No room any more     not here    not there

Fixed      at a standstill

The hive of light


Pierre Reverdy
translated from the French by Dan Bellm
Black Square Editions