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Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments

Prevert, Paroles

Read by M.P. Hasne

“C’est la guerre c’est l’été

Déjà l’été encore la guerre

Et la ville isolée désolée

Sourit sourit encore

Sourit sourit quant même

De son doux regard d’été

Sourit doucement à ceux qui s’aiment

C’est la guerre et c’est l’été

Un homme avec une femme

Marchent dans un musée

Ce musée c’est le Louvre

Cette ville c’est Paris

Et la fraîcheur du monde

Est là tout endormie

Un gardien se réveille en entendant les pas

Appuie sur un bouton et retombe dans son rêve

Cependant qu’apparaît dans sa niche de pierre

La merveille de l’Égypte debout dans sa lumière

La statue d’Osiris vivante dans le bois mort

Vivante à faire mourir une nouvelle fois de plus

Toutes les idoles mortes des églises de Paris

Et les amants s’embrassent

Osiris les marie

Et puis rentre dans l’ombre

De sa vivante nuit.”

Read by M.P.… More

The Time of Silence

Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments

Read by J. Handwerg Juana Inés de la Cruz, and Alan S. Trueblood, Sor Juana Anthology (Cambridge, Mass:  Harvard University Press, 1988).

“The shadow of night mounted the earth, aspiring to reach heaven, whose distant starts scorned its bellicosity. It could not even penetrate to the far—the convex—side of the sphere of the moon and had to be content with fouling the zone of air surrounding the earth.… More

The fur of time

Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments

neruda book cover


cat's dream

“How neatly a cat sleeps,
sleeps with its paws and its posture,
sleeps with its wicked claws,
and with its unfeeling blood,
sleeps with all the rings–
a series of burnt circles–
which have formed the odd geology
of its sand-colored tail.… More

Dear White Ponies

Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments



strange goddess face

above my milk home,

that delicate asylum,

I ate you up.


All my need took

you down like a meal.


What you gave

I remember in a dream:

the freckled arms binding me,

the laugh somewhere over my woolly hat,

the blood fingers tying me shoe,

the breasts hanging like two bats

and then darting at me,

bending me down.… More

The Death Baby

Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments


“I was an ice baby.

I turned to sky blue.

My tears became two glass beads.

My mouth stiffened into a dumb howl.

They say it was a dream

but I remember that hardening.


My sister at six

dreamt nightly of my death:

“The baby turned to ice.… More

Chuang Tzu’s Empy Boat

Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments


“If a man is crossing a river

And an empty boat collides with his own skiff,

Even though he be a bad-tempered man

He will not become very angry.

But if he sees a man in the boat,

He will shout at him to steer clear.… More


Feb. 19, 2013 / by / 0 Comments



“Whsn that Aprill with his shoures soote

The droghte of March hath perced to the roote,

And bathed every veyne in swich licour

Of which vertu engendred is the flour;

Whan Zephirus eek with his sweete breeth

Inspired hath in every holt and heeth

The tendre croppes, and the yonge sonne

Hath in the Ram his half cours yronne,

And smale foweles maken melodye,

That slepen al the nyght with open ye

(So priketh hem nature in hir corages),

Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgimages,

And palmeres for to seken straunge strondes,

To ferne halwes, kowthe in sundry londes;

And specially from every shires ende

Of England to Caunterbury they wende,

The hooly blissful martir for to seke,

That hem hath holpen whan that they were seeke.”

Read by B.… More