Language: French

The Five Fingers of the Hand

by Aloysius Bertrand: The thumb is this fat Flemish innkepper, mocking and saucy, who smokes by his door, beneath the sign of the double March beer.

Psalm 24

“How I love to lie down in this field—in myself: / myself in hiding, then disappearing.” | by Patrice de La Tour du Pin

Patrice de La Tour du Pin

PATRICE DE LA TOUR DU PIN  (1911-1975) was best known in France for the three-volume multi-genred work entitled Une somme de poésie, and several shorter books of poetry, including Psaumes de tous mes temps, which collects the psalms he wrote and revised throughout his life. poems

Hamid Tibouchi

Painter and poet HAMID TIBOUCHI, born in 1951 in Tibane (Algeria), has lived and worked in France since 1981. As a visual artist, he has exhibited at around sixty solo shows, and nearly three hundred group exhibitions, in France and around the world. His abundant production takes multiple forms—paintings, drawings, etchings, photos, artist books, object …

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Veins (extracts) // Nervures (extraits)

“a little like how a sentry in the night / paces to keep himself awake” | Selections from poet-artist Hamid Tibouchi’s Nervures in English and French.

Spiritual Distress

by Hédi Kaddour: Damn the almanac-makers who leave you / stuck between debts and death

No Rhymes

by Hédi Kaddour: No ocean, no rhymes, the prudent / mountain, long walks and sometimes / when we thought too highly of ourselves / a huge bovine herd, just before the slap

[Once she had a book]

Once she had a book whose lines furled east to west like Siberian trains Black smoke erupted from its pages when sentences tangled, some hurtling into each other, some conjoined, a small group that decided to reach the word end before dark He was an indoor book fearful of winds that could fill him with …

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The Supermarket

Chocolates, beer, pâté, whiskey, cookies, she watches them stuff it away and the girl, already drunk, bright red, insults her, threatens to sock her in the face, old bag, they laugh, they shout Thief! The security guards come, grab her, the others laugh harder, she exclaims Not me! It’s them! The guards frisk, the girl …

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