nous recherchons une parole vraie, pas rejetée, souveraine ;
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Si un jour, tel un sanglier abstrait, tu me cherches sciemment,
Souviens-toi, que le sortilège angoissant fleurit, ô cauchemars solitaires.
Tes fesses de chien seront toujours mes moutons mécaniques,
Et jamais je n’oublierai, tes oreilles de cafard et ta sensualité ovale.

Tout reste à faire
Jeunesse
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Les corps fatigués ne nous déplaisent pas.

L’herbe était verte
et les filles jolies,

les renards sont rentrés !

François Martin m’a raconté qu’un jour dans l’avion il fit cette découverte extraordinaire transmise illico presto à son ami Jean-Luc Nancy via son portable : ETC. = Eros. Tanatos. Chronos.