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Too white the petite
Babylonian her eyes of zinzolin
Her navel set with a stone of the same color
When like a casement window over a nocturnal garden opens
Jacqueline X's hand
How pernicious you are at the bottom of that hand
Eyes from beyond the time forever moist
Flower that could be called the prophet's reticence
That's made of the present of the past of the future
I sing the unique light of coincidence
The joy of being stooped over the large rosace of the superior ice cream
maker
The wonderful infiltrations which you remark one fine day have coned the
floor
The import of incidents strange but insignificant at first glance
And their gift of vertiginous final appropriation unto myself
I sing your fatal horizon
You who wince imperceptibly in my love's hand
Between the curtain of life
And the curtain of the heart
Eyes of zinzolin
YZ
Of the secret alphabet of the omninecessity
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