This Head Passing by the World

You could hear a whistle in the spirit

At the edge of the ear’s vibration

Like a sweet hysteria

A birth of phantasmagoria

A genesis born of the skin and its magnets

The ear vibrates to the pool of sparks

And the angel swims vigorously

Among the statues of the sky

In the eye of heaven

With her head crossed by the wind perhaps

With her ceiling of hair shimmering like bricks

With her halo’s halo over the soil’s soil

With its colors and its icons

And her eye scales every plateau

With the harness of its secret spring

Her sweaty marine eye anchored in port

Like a swallow growing roots

Or a bell becoming a tree