PLEASURE TO COME: SUSPENDED TIME
Spirit living space of unlimited indecencies,
In the clouds of a seen vision
For everyone pleasure and look,
A blind and spitfire fury
gets close slowly and delicatly
Toward the suspended time which contemplats it.
Humble but definite,
The tuch looks for the truth,
The mystery hided
Behind the deep obscurity of the pupilla.
Frightened, the iris stretches its muscles,
Stiffened by the coming pleasure
It wants to get closer.
Splited into an androgine virility,
Voyeur and pleasure seeker in the clouds bosom,
A reproving look seems to say:
"I am looking at you... indescents"
Hugues Delbergue,
Miami, 6 december 1983
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