Ma langue est poétique. It is poetic in its unrolling and its pieces and in the wake of its pieces, it is not composed of words attached to words by accident, by suffering, by stapling cor- ners and catch-lines and straps and frictions and stuck- together strings meticulously glued to each other to make up their length. It is not extended by a miracle in perpetual dis- equilibrium, it has breath, is a breath, is the breath, bypasses all obstacles in passing through the sublime effect, in con...
