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I WANT TO BE CONFUSED....
     or  
The Stopping Place of the Prophet

by
Roger Gilbert-Lecomte

You make a mistake I am not the one who is equipped
I am the other one the one never waited for
My face under the red mask - glory and shame-
Turns to the wind, the only guide I want for my steps

I shall assume the immobile are statues
In the anger of the thunderstorm with twisted gestures
Which breaks their brow on the ground  brought to ruin
But leaves me standing neither right nor wrong

Do you expect only right of me in the torment?
Terribly stiff and cold absence without rest
To speak to the dead old men it is necessary to find the crack
Through which filters a black beam of the other sun

And if I fall before night along the highway
Face against the ground and both arms outstretched
At the bottom of any silent influx of strength in me
I will redress for the night of bewilderment

And I will come back around you like the voices
Of great waters roaring under the vaulted night
Before the hour and the sign happens do you leave me?
Will only you all who deny the prophet leave me?

Transmuting all of life in a reversal
Of the senses illuminated by immortal agonies
Do you leave me in the atrocious space of my head?
Confusing confused confused confusing