Thursday, September 30, 2010

Resumes In Manual Testing For Freshers

of poetry

Excerpts from "Exile of Poetry" (2010), unpublished collection of Andre Chenet :

Before sleeping

There are no poets
the ball rolling
little suns
within words

a concentrated space
returns and our silences

truth is that all that questions?

humans struggling to push to grow

the blind as night
makes them fearful loneliness

edge of death
fairy injured

there is no
poets in books or magic

no return of love

; I tell you

I tell you from inside my lip on the edge
I tell you

with filaments and bits of fire
I told you
I tell you

beats every moment I tell you

fork winds
language lovers
I tell you what just

far and dear to my heart I tell you

the following dreams
time I say something
of oblivion and sand
I tell you
ephemeral words of yesterday
I tell you
the white nights of my
I tell you what

ends and what begins
say that almost nothing
of syllables and sounds

The immortal

Tell me the heart and silence

I came to sing
the joy and beauty

your arms wet your hands and your legs
love in the tall grass
I came to you in
uncrossing all
paths through my voice
your eyes saw my pain
already you light up my poems
I came from a country that does violence

where everyone carries his cross
dark beliefs
I spent borders
suffering Tell me life and embrace infinite

his music and his breath
I came to sing love
and fragility
your mouth red spring
your breasts with salt and equinoxes
and immortality.

Memories of legendary times

A Toothy
the embers of an alphabet disappeared
o Fire
fruit that split to the goddesses
falcon heads

ancient times where we danced naked among the myriad

spiral of the Milky Way
time initiations
virile and solstices

wild feasts when we went to places where nocturnal
light on the banks of sacred rivers
we climbed from
paths through
shifting sands and waves of dream in these times
haloed mystery
peoples obscure signs tattooed purple
Us Currencies
on the wire with
water snakes of the infinite
we have not forgotten how to speak the language
green trees
nor the mockingbirds and
wind made us wings to fly the hippogriff

magnetic storms at this time of moons
prophecies and our wives had huge eyes shone like
where a constellation of mother of pearl beads

Passwords Cristina
Read these suns
on edge
where foraging birds fairy

break any
gap between us and our breaths
with perfumes rare
of loneliness panting

vermilion seal the pact of our eyes
lost wax on our ardent
blinding Hugs

accompany life
to nest at night and we

off in a whirlwind of crazy stars.

The fire of desire

I lived for Sundays sad
tocsins of purple and stormy nights
How to distinguish outside and in? The hem
sleep relaxes
pass between my lips where silences
I have no reason to exist if the world withers
I should wander freely through
groves and
fields of country as the seasons turn
I age my desires are rain or shine
age of love, where hordes quench their thirst of life
Only the ashes which the fire resistant bites.


We will open new

galaxies at the forefront of our poems

We will open our exiles to
nightlife lights of the earth We will open

what dreams
seal in the enclosures of reason

We will open gestures of prophets
countries destroyed

We will open on the cliffs of gypsum
a road height desires

We will open fire which makes wood
and that water does not tell us

We will discover the major issues
in our deepest sleep

All literature is a theater of signs
between what is thought and accomplished.


He does not know that lightning breath
that sticks to the glass like an old dream

within reach Morning

He listens more than stone cold
when you took the time
and he no longer understands

It crosses
things and uses few words to achieve this share

forgetting that swells

It changes the silence in a psalm
and burns to the eyes
distant fires.

Andre Chenet


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