From His tiny Palace of Dust
the King surveys his Realm
More loyal to his Subjects
Than they will be to Him.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

You own your Life
and you take from it, of course.
But You Will Never Never touch its Source.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

Surprise is like a pepper - strong
In a dish that Tastes of Nothing.
Alone, it Burns, but Blended in,
Makes a Dish fit for a King.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

To break so Vast a Heart
Strike with a Blow as Vast.
No wind ever dealt the Cedars
So cruel a Blast.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

Warm were the hands of the lover
While faithful and away
My Grace, debased by a love of her
submitted to one day

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

The Butterfly in glorious Dust
Rests without a Doubt
but there is Nothing in the catacomb
As Mortified as the Fly

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

All analysts are comforted
by a Correct diagnosis.
What eloquence there is in the Heart
Once it has found its Voice.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

When the Memory is Full
we put the Lid on tight
The most beautiful Syllable of the Morning
'presumptuous' said the Night.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

Silence is our only Dread
Hostage is its Voice
But Silence is Infinity
and does not have a Face

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

For this brief Life - lasts but an hour
all things - so few - are in our power.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et moi

menagerie -
my next identity

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux par cjwm

My first certitude was you
In morning's Warm Clarity
My first worry was that Mystery
Would swallow you up in the Night

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux par cjwm

From Loss Divine
We take what we Gain
Consolation for our Solitude
Once Bliss has been and gone again

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux par cjwm

Society torments me
since the Gift of Thee.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux par cjwm

White as the Indian paintbrush
Red as a Cardinal
Fabulous as the Mid-Day Moon -
February Hour.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux par cjwm

Cast upon Time an indulgent eye -
It is no doubt doing its best -
With such sweet shadows the sun
trembles Towards the Human West.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et cjwm

The Lord didn't make Action without Cause
nor Hearts, without Promise
our Deductions should give us Pause
for False is our Premise.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

I made a bet with the wind that blows
Which Nature did buffoon -
She broke Her Laws to punish me
and scuttled my balloon.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

Too happily, Time dissolves itself
and leaves us no remains
It has no Feathers, weighs too much
To fly in the face of our Pain.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

Experience escorts us to our last -
It's stubborn company
Does not leave us a Window
of Possibility.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

The riddles o'er which we mull
We soon come to despise -
For Nothing's quite as Dull
as Yesterday's Surprise.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

Where all audacious birds do go
Where bees play without blame -
The Stranger, before knocking
Must dry his tears of shame.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

Hope tackles its "adventures" -
Dreams are within you "but are not you."

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

The incidents of Love
Surpass their brief minutes
For an instant can reveal
What was always infinite.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

The Ghettoes have their Secrets
and must have their Strategies
For drive-by dreams do threaten
To shatter reveries.

- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

Certain days divide other days
Gently destroy the days -
The day the the Companion came
The day she went away.

-- e. dickinson aprés claire malroux et moi

In this long Paradise of Light -
a Dull moment I have Never had -
Nor Nostalgia for the Terrestrial Theatre -
and its troupe of Mortal Players.

- e. dickinson, claire malroux et mo