Hi everyone, I’m really happy to share with you the release of my last book, This is the first book written in English.I’m truly grateful
Étiquette : poetry
The Koan Of My Life
The koan of my life, up to now, is as follows :‘How to be a wandering monk without being a wandering monk ?’ How can
Substitute Nipple And Marine Universal
Long have I lived in the outlet storeOf assembly-line music,There, it filled meWith ethereal echoesConcentrated syrupEmotional quicksandHorizons to follow,Facing overwhelmed eyes. I understand now that
Noise At My Door
I’m not digging any deeper in the hole of society,Nor am I walking toward its crooked smile. My sensitivity is below its radars,The world does
The United States of Noise (re-post)
This is an old post dating back from 2018 Though it feels like I wrote it more than a decade ago I now find it
Poetic Slope
Poetry,The poetic mind,Can also be a sensibility which ends up penning the poet in spiritual drowsiness.From that point, the poetically inclined mind will dig to
Meet the Journalist
Still digging out old posts….from earlier sitting sessions, back in 2016. I recently bumped into someone I had never met before.Someone I know more than
Between The Dreadful Drafts
This life, desensitizedLiterally degenerates,Off-track, astrayGuided by Entropy AlmightyUnder mechanical grindersOf Time. Does it dilute on purpose ?Does it have, eventually, not to beAnyone left to
But A Dream
Imagine a dream….You are giving yourself over to circular pleasures,Hidden by the surface foam from troubled waters,Until you notice distant flames on the shore Waving
« Are You Alive ? Yes I Am. »
This is a re-post of some notes taken 6 years ago.As I am currently working on the publication of a book in English I’ve been
Mouth Full Of Earth
A dry meditationReveals how deeply trapped we’ve allowed ourselves to become In ideas, both barren and fertile,In unclear, diffuse anxieties,In entertaining chorusesOn childhood and old
God Means ..
God means the bottom of your soul, your most intimate self, as Meister Eckart put it.You can look elsewhere, but be prepared for inconsistencies and
Zen Knows
From the bottom of the nightHe laid a hand on the notebookHolding on to a creviceOn a rocky face of the mountain,A desperate grip to
Left Un-Named
More than anything elseHe didn’t want to have anything to name. For he knew that, as he would pin a tag to this new phenomenon,He
Zero Degree Of Poetry
The sea had recededOnce again, she found herself stranded on the sandbank of the weekend. Soon enough, a wave swelling from the horizon will come
Notes & Silence 