ALONG WITH ME: Black [The hand snatches the pencil] Poem by Marc André Brouillette

ALONG WITH ME: Black [The hand snatches the pencil]



The hand snatches the pencil and it's off! Gone the page, gone the virgin surface, gone the void. There is no shape, no note, no trace that can withstand such an outpouring of graphite. Words get swallowed up in the mass of it. The tip scratches and scratches and scratches. It pours out the black blood of speech enraged by silence.

English versions by Paul Vermeersch

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