Modifié le : 2019/08/06

Peo­ple say they like read­ing me and jok­ing­ly add that some­times peo­ple don’t always under­stand me, that at the begin­ning of the day, my poet­ry goes more or less well between cof­fee and toast. I laugh with all my heart. Indeed, it is not always nec­es­sary to lis­ten to poets (or politi­cians), and the poet has a per­son­al respon­si­bil­i­ty to do some­thing too. I am also aware that my soul waves have very lit­tle impor­tance if they only move like motion­less gelatin.

“Doing” is a vague con­cept, the sub­ject of a great dis­pute between those who believe that only action mat­ters and those who think that the mind, freed from its con­straints, makes it pos­si­ble to envis­age the future dif­fer­ent­ly. These two truths form their mutu­al shad­ows, and the answer prob­a­bly comes at noon, when the day has defin­i­tive­ly left the night and is about to return to it. No one is right, no one is wrong either.

Doing to do is not worth any­thing. Nei­ther does train­ing for fun. The poet who, for an ide­al, adheres to a fas­cist par­ty is no bet­ter than a dam builder who, for eco­nom­ic rea­sons, does not accept to pro­tect a liv­ing heritage.

Prob­lems arise when dia­logue does not take place between two sup­pos­ed­ly sealed worlds. The poet will per­ceive more if he forces him­self to con­front his words with a silent real­i­ty. And we all know that the most impreg­nable cliff will fall under the patient assaults and tidal twists.

We live in a world aban­doned by its wiz­ards. Is it a good or a bad thing ? Let’s wait until noon to find out the answer. And in the mean­time, let’s get back to our chores.