HE THOUGHT OF HIS THOUGHTS

Raven was getting older
around the eyes
and at the wing tips

but the hunger remained the same
every day when the Sun came
and when the Sun left
across the sky of Youth and Old

at night the bird thought of days
he thought of his thoughts
wondered about truth, what possible truth

truth under your wings
in the thickness of the air
in what is before you
in what has been lost

Raven was hungry yes
for meal and truth
perhaps also for yesterday

::: ::: :::

Picture: And that felt fine by reading_is_dangerous 

In Nianzale

THE INVISIBLE TIGER

oh! they shake
the trees, the land, the children
the weapons, the germs, the precious stones
the sugar cane

oh! I took everything
and the television, the Bible
the cars, the moto-taxis
the prostitutes, their cell phones

oh! I walked away
from the lake, the worms
the invisible dragons, as you said
they spit fire from inside

I saw villages and villages
on the side of mountains, on the top
at the foot of our hills
our hills : the Earth is ours

I saw a child the day before he died
I saw the father
he was waiting
we were waiting, the kid was waiting

I saw my words leave, never to return
my ideas flew away
I was left with only the call of crows
how they talk or laugh, those birds

I made everybody laugh when I pretended
that I saw a tiger, here
in the hills of the Democratic Republic of Congo
a tiger, a tiger, a tiger

a health center
another health center
a vaccination campaign
a nutritional campaign

a distribution of non-food items
the distribution of medical drugs
the distribution of a few jobs
the distribution of papers

paper me
paper you
I am gone, now, flying away
in a paper plane

oh! the miles
they come inside of me
miles and miles and miles
of people, and their smiles

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The invisible tiger by reading_is_dangerous]

GROWTH

the background, the setting, the context
grows on you
for the good of it, of you, of everything
including the words

bananas, mangos, passion fruits
the soil is red, black, yellow
now more than ever I wish I were a bird
a buzzard

I only have a few minutes
to say that I am leaving today
for a little town, Nyanzale
I should be back in a few days.

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Smile by reading_is_dangerous]

WHERE THE FLOWERS WALK

man stands still
within the man, the writer
within the writer, the traveler
within the traveler, the worker

man stands still
I wait
perhaps not unlike
the volcano

::: ::: :::

[Picture : Where the flowers walk you by reading_is_dangerous]

UP HERE, IN THE HILLS

up here, in the hills

the line
the border line
was shown to me
which waits for me
to take a step
and turn at last
into a man

but it won't happen here
that step --

first I need to climb higher
into the mountains

far, far from here

the whole thing about the human experience
is just this:
you be a man or a woman
among other men and women

so I need to go up
before I can come down

down from the hills
down from the mountains

and speak.

(and I'll need words, more many words
on the way)


::: ::: :::

[Picture: More many by reading_is_dangerous]

YOU TAKE THE SUN

you take the Sun
it has sun rays
like in the drawings of little children

you take the Earth
it grows with people
and other living beings

and even this little snake
which I saw this morning
dead, killed
by the guardian man
that thin, dead line of a life
dead baby snake
it shines too
it makes the Earth grow

green hills have hearts
and eyes and mouths
and bandits
what's in the heart of a bandit?

who
sits under the Sun
or in your heart?

the hills have ordinary people too
the people have words,
en tout cas,
ça, c'est très bien

and if I am an intruder
if I am to think of myself as an intruder
then I would say
that the intruder is little more than just
a drop of rain

::: ::: :::

[Picture : Nicole by reading_is_dangerous]

NECESSARY MARKS

sometimes I can't find the words
to go with the picture which is waiting in line
to be shown

that's especially true when I am reading a lot
or when there is little for me
to think by myself

tomorrow I am leaving for some place
a little city north of here

I don't believe there will be the Internet
but there should be plenty of opportunities
for new pictures
and new poems to be

new marks

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Drying pants by reading_is_dangerous]

In Rwanda, on the road, June 8.

A LITTLE QUESTION

"In plague epidemics, it is essential to destroy the flea population without harming the host species (rodents) otherwise there will be a greater risk of flea infesting (and infecting) humans" --p.78 of Refugee Health, An approach to emergency situations (MSF)

how to apply
that
recommendation
to the field of
politics,
now I wonder?

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Red crosses by reading_is_dangerous] In Rwanda, on the road to Goma, June 8

THE FLYING 4 X 4

the 4 x 4 was flying on the road
from K to G
and I wasn't offered any chance
to take pictures
other than from inside our speeding vehicle

the results were blurry
and at first, I thought of deleting
the whole serie,
all the pictures

but I gave them a second look
and then I saw it:
the beauty
the truth
the terrible story
of these blurred figures

by the way
I just realized that I don't know
the difference between "blurred"
and "blurry"

except that "blurred" sounds like it was done
to
it
while "blurry" sounds like it was born
like that.

::: ::: :::

[Picture: What is your name? by reading_is_dangerous] (Rwanda - yesterday)

THE OTHER SIDE OF US

this is
will be
is going to be
what is going to be

the second picture I took here
the hills
the clouds
and people to far for me to see

there is the white vehicle that will take me
to
Goma
in nearby Congo

the soil is dark
the sky is white
a man stands in between
or he doesn't

I should not write now
right after the airplane trip
right after the first night after my arrival
it's too fast, I'm taking a poetical risk (ha! ha!)

the kids here, numerous tourists
in shorts, all pink
one is right here in front of me
they're discussing the drugs they take

of course nobody's looking at me
that's the trend in traveling:
be a snob, don't talk, don't look
or look like you're utterly bored

my colleagues say
there are volcanoes on the road
they say the road is beautiful
they say it's another story on the other side

the other side of me
the other side of you
the other side of us
here is a question: how many side have we?

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Sample picture by reading_is_dangerous]

THE OTHER DAY

?



::: ::: :::

[Picture: The Universe by reading_is_dangerous] (The other day)

AND SO ON, AND SO ON

now leaving for the airport
it should be a twenty minutes flight to Bordeaux

the plan is to spend the day
with people who will show me
their part in the complicated business
of saving the world

on the same day I should come back to Paris
another twenty minutes flight
then back to hotel
it will be a long train ride

then I will be sitting here again
to be thinking of tomorrow, and so on, and so on

::: ::: :::

Picture: The squirrels of us by reading_is_dangerous

SEEN BIRD

the hand was the first bird
to come out of a pocket



::: ::: :::

[Picture: Seen bird by reading_is_dangerous] Sculpture by A. Bourganov

I AM THIS BIRD

I am this bird on the roof of this house in Paris
And I am bird-thinking,
That I am this man
In the window looking from across the street

And the houses are secretly thinking,
That all is well in this world
When people build more houses
Where more people are being born

And the clouds
Just come and go

::: ::: :::

[Picture: The Bridge-Eye by reading_is_dangerous]



I just remembered this recent comment (here), by Mijo:

Are we not just momentary clouds
In the eye of the universe ?

WHO LIVES HERE

a film,
it's bad, in your mind it's bad, that film
but then you watch it, the whole thing, and you think,
"they succeeded in making this one good."

and you end up dreaming of films which you never made
and then you think of all the stories which you never wrote
and then you think of these ideas which sit on you --
the ones that looked good in the beginning
but then you thought some more about them,
and they held nothing good

well, they sit on you. Those ideas

ok ok ok ok ok

my eyes, they look like eggs, sunny-side down
and my hair is gone, how quickly that happened
and I am skinny
and I don't know anything
but I am here, right now
and this is me, writing this (oh! the comforting thought)

if you were here, with me
we'd be talking
or just kissing
or playing cards
or watching a movie
or we'd go to sleep
and catch a dream (one each)

in seven days from now, I will be leaving for the Congo
and I was told that I can choose
one of two different drugs to keep me safe
from malaria

one, you take it once a week,
and it gives you nightmares in the beginning
and other side effects include, can include depression
dark thoughts -- as if I needed them

the other one, you take it once a day
it's an antibiotic -- no side-effect, theoretically speaking

well, I'm going to go for the later
because I don't want any molecule to touch
my nervous system
my beautiful nervous system
so precious (I should give my pills to a Congolese)

ok ok ok ok ok

I don't usually write like this
I don't think I should publish this
but I don't think I should trash it either
therefore I’ll just put it here
and perhaps one day, I'll read it again
and think,
"this started well,
but it ended badly,"
or maybe I'll think just the opposite

or nothing --
perhaps I'll think nothing of it

ok ok ok ok ok

earlier today I wrote something which I later deleted
that was about the pepper ants and the spiders
and how they come into our houses
to find a place with food and warmth

a place where to make love

::: ::: :::

[Picture: Leave them doors open, and the windows too by reading_is_dangerous]