after Michaux
A line meets another, a line dodges another, line adventure.
A line for pleasure of being line, of going, line.
Dots, spots, reduced to powdery lines of dream,
a line waits,
a line hopes, a line
rethinks a face.
A line rises up, goes and sees the abstract line.
Sinuous, zig-zaging, a melodious line passes through
twenty lines of stratification.
A line germinates, a thousand others around her
sprouters of fresh shoots: grass, pushing through
desert sand dunes.
A line gives up. A line rests. Halt. A three tendrilled halt, a habitat
a fabricat from which filaments escape still, slowly.
original French text at _lignesdefuites_
