Benoît Pioulard

The Loom Pedal

Benoît Pioulard


Simple signals sung until we're hoarse
A thread across a great expanse
Severed in the middle like a bullet to the sinew
Shall we dance

Exhausted, interred
When vertices spur, the shuttle returns

Orchestrated effort adding elements in conjuring ideals
Coordinated passage is a fragile, braided reason to reveal

As soon as i find a good tree to climb
The image rewinds

I've said my share in aches, maligned & migrained
But write cos it's a fool's errand
Busy, busy, busy

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