POEMS

BY KIM KERZE

6

Picture from Célébrations nationales 2004 : Jean-Nicolas-Arthur Rimbaud

Rimbaud’s Colours

Black Blood

spoke inside my skullsockets shattering my elongated fingerpulses

like an axe struck on an iron floor.

Red Blood

ran across my tonsils & fixed epidemic needles within the rivulets

of my imagination.

Green Blood

careened thru my nerves, pivots, pulled back, suspending

the moment of implosion.

Blue Blood

dreamt the moon into clusters of broken raga drones, poured pages of grief

into a smoking cigarette.

White Blood

a billowing crackle of static bursting open in my retina- all shadows ghost

into an impossible present

See as well in Screenplayer by Anthony Rousseau, the program « Voyelles », inspired by Rimbaud’s poem.

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