written by Alain Farah
transl. by Gabriel Kunst
The pomegrenade is my favourite food. By adding Salt, we achieve hair. Depending on the era, memory remembers.
The totals’ dwelling, a plant in my face.
The onion knows the origin of its head and of evil. Eve spells out the relaxed vegetable, made into a salad.
Chip green on a tabula rasa: to swell in advance.
Original: Alain Farah, Quelque chose se détache du port, Montreal, Quartanier, 2018 [2004], p. 20.
Photo: Laurence Du Sault, www.laurencedusault.com
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