“The beautiful dream that we unfold and extend…”

The beautiful dream that we unfold and extend,
ruined, in the course of a sublime mockery;
beauty defeated by the measure of a sobering glance,
reflected from a bitterly earned truth.

You, aubain, you trace, cross the unlivable place,
distraught, crack it, move it,
lift it up high, spin like a water wheel.
And your goods can be taken away.

Between letter and body, an analogy exists more than an allegory, an identical signifier: one like the other signifies presence. And when the body and writing show themselves (on dull walls, along dreary corridors) they don’t speak only of their own instability, the bitter solitude that slips from an exhausted glance, they speak of the instability that belongs to