“Big Sea Bass

Let’s go fishing for big sea bass then
A little further south
That last utopia.

Power isn’t, after all,
In the tip of pen or sword
– It is principally on the other side. On the other side.
Let’s go then and fish for the sea bass that doesn’t exist.

Life with neither bullets nor ballads.
The fact is that we are part of the journey
We have sought out a different space, a different way
Another way of writing, another way of doing
On another of the century’s pages.

Maybe a trace more than the ruins remained
Some glittering images
The slightly sad and wise look
A protracted echo
Or maybe a rumour of comrades
On the battlefields.

The fact is my old friend that we didn’t fit in.
We can still smoke, in some place,
The cigarette of fraternity.
Or maybe say with Mallarmé
Blue blue blue.

And seek out the big sea bass.
A little further south. A little further south.