NEONS

The morning mist clears, the beginning of a day

brighter now behind the hills,

the neon lights are out,

the last vestige of the night,

in a single sweep they wash out

the night's illusions of grandeur.

In a city the nights are brutally bright;

their illuminations darken the heart.

And yet I choose them by the night,

a compulsion , a need.

The yellow lights on the walls, the reading lamp, then the night bulb enduring the dark,

the night , my night of the heart's solitude

is scared of the overwhelming floods of lights

washing away the cordiality, the gentle intimacy

of the unlit ways where street lights shine

few and far between

Sushama Karnik

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 The filigree of shadows and the body of the tree

growing forever in the sun. A summer,

lengthening the breath of day. An edifice

carved in stone, its arched gate closed,

and the wicket gate hiding in thickets,

This cool enclosure, an invitation to brood

over the story of bygone days whispered by the wind

and spreading its wings over here and now

in a loving embrace.

Sushama Karnik.

Daniele Chany

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extrait L’invention du diable

Hubert Haddad

Délectable, sur la pierre de tuffeau des façades, du pigeonnier, d'une tourelle d'angle et des balustres entre jar…

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