Poetry from the fridge

, par Simon o Tarsier

1.
a week longer than the voyage
dominated by speed
to fast-cash withdrawals
soared in the past
grown by leaps and bounds
The mantra was, “Need it now”
true in the air and on land

2.
To understand where
stand in the dust
starting at $650,000
to their unfinished shells
vast and empty
drawn against flat winter light
by far the most visible sign

3.
slowdown in mergers and acquisitions
buy new technology or snap up
hard to find new places
consolidation comes amid fresh enthusiasm
say bankers and analysts
It probably transforms
Isn’t it about time for another

4.
a head-on collision Monday
raising the hope that
a wave of wildcat strikes by
whose name was not being made public
to be among the dead, he said
a mechanical failure, human error or another
understandable emotional reaction

5.
She remembers her years working
sweeping change on multiple fronts
stood up, swallowed hard
Then she went even further
disappeared down a rabbit hole
discovering a set of ideas long dismissed
as if reborn to a new reality

6.
Don’t pretend
imitating have been the rule
birds, bees, butterflies, plum blossoms
The work is conservative, unimaginative
like the camera obscura or the camera lucida
For the rest of us
Repeatedly tracing the works of old masters

7.
classic struggles to stay true to its
a hint of old-fashioned, handmade
which has already nearly drowned in
make you howl with laughter
no choice but to take him seriously
excess is most needed
a wolf in gentleman’s clothing

8.
The print was so tiny
Putting something of yourself
of fur and in the voluminous sleeves
but only occasionally as an entire outfit
“This is like my whole life”
angular, constructivist theme
seemed a little too familiar, with its short

9.
One
ended Monday night
No longer
“Still, it hurts the heart.”
like car dealerships and shopping malls
we now have a gap
whispering across the ice on swift and nearly silent crossover moves

P.-S.

Cinq de ces morceaux poétiques tirés du réfrigérateur ont accompagnés les photographies d’Emmanuel Veneau, dans un livre intitulé family room (auto-édité, épuisé) en décembre 2010.