I speak a cyberbabel as fleeting
as a cloud .
It\'s a thought form which strips away
the vowels in a few subsequent
possessives ...
Only the artists who compose
the painting in music
and animate the marble statues
with nonsense ,
can understand me.
Or else they are just uttering
a vain plea ...
On the skin of the seasons
I tatoo dancing pleasures ,
hallucinatory mantras
swirling around ...
I speak a cyberjargon
whose voices blend in profound mysteries
and funny mishaps ...
Often I lost myself in the gospel
of cybercreation...
That cursed clock showing
only elusive letters on its face !
I trigger mutant alchemies
that make Mary Poppins laugh.
But Harry Potter takes all
of this seriously ...
I need to improve my basic
magic skills !
I trace a thoughtful alphabet
that undulates like a sinuous serpent
whose mystical bite invites me
to the ritual of a cyber religion
of which I am the single god ...
Cyberprayer of the fire
burning in the waters vanishing
into the great delta
or end all the how are you
without questioning ...
My cybertalk is that of
borderline poets walking
on a fragile wire between
spectrality and tragedy ...
It\'s my refuge when the storm
of loud verbs blows outside...
Home port where I drop ink
at these beaches of which
each page writes the end and dawn ...
My cyber dementia ...