#carnets
![[...]Somewhere, in one of those monologues you carry for company, someone mentioned fatigue.
Not the kind you name. The kind that slides in quietly. Skin. Flesh. Bone. The fatigue that is skin, is bone.
At first, you denied it. Said : that’s for others. Not me.
That sort of sentence rarely ends well.
Once you say “others,” you’ve already stepped out. And yet you always preferred company. The “he” or “she,” weightless, nameless, faceless. The voice not tied to any scent, any roughness, any real throat.
“He,” “she”—better than Machine. Better than Thing.
But they too : skin. Flesh. Bone. Just far. Farther than far. Mars, by comparison, is next door.
Maybe, then, lying like this, you could start thinking. Past. Present. Future. Why not be optimistic ?
Even a dying man may hope for something—so long as it doesn’t take too long.
8 p.m., still early, say some. Late, say others.
You know how the company delights in such nonsense.[...]](https://files.mastodon.social/media_attachments/files/114/666/267/710/186/078/original/1d4039f7af5e3405.jpg)
Ma pentalogie commencée en 2004, composée de Jardin du causse, Chroniques du hamac, Calepins paisibles d’une pâtresse de poules, À la loupe tout est rituel et Le livre des sensations, sorte de journaux poétiques où l’inspiration puise à l’environnement immédiat, à l’ordinaire des jours. La poésie peut-elle naître de cette source si infime ou bien s’y épuise-t-elle ? C'est la grande question et chaque lectrice et lecteur trouvera sa réponse.
à me commander directement, papier recyclé, circuit court
#poesie #poete #livres #cathygarciacanalès #journal #chroniques #quotidien #calepins #carnets
"Be silent, she said to me—not as a reprimand, but as if my silence itself were chattering, and that chatter not born of the silence that is needed. Although, what is needed, perhaps, is that nothing be needed at all."
https://ledibbouk.net/spip.php?article3099
#carnets
