12. F.I.A.T.


My hearing is all torn up


I envy your repose

Factory steamships

At anchor

In the suburbs of the town

I wish I could empty myself out

Like you

After your confinement

Pneumatics fart silently into my back

Electric buttons are on my nerve-ends


Your modern white nickel-plated room

The cradle

Scant noises from the hospital

Saint Clothilde

Iím in a fever all the time

Paris Addresses


To be in your shoes

What a turn!

Itís the first time Iím envious of a woman

Iíd like to be a woman

To be a woman

In the universe

In life

To be

And open up to the childlike future

I who am bedazzled


Blťriot headlights

Automatic starter



My pen gambols


Beat it!



April 1914.