What's that you say Sajous?, star crossed, a people turns its...

What's that you say Sajous?, star crossed, a people turns its gaze to you...

As we awoke this morning to the news of His island return,
like smoke from a Comme- Il- Faut, he lingers and clings to Switzerland's concern.

Incredulous! We can't believe our salient voice is silent,
he would not leave the damned ones to the vultures scouring Rue des Miracles.

In a land that once was our land, we can find not a home, not a tent.
Oh! Great writer with the paintbrush, the writing of the smoke we read while breastfed on the smell of paint.

Ever lyrical, we dodged the riddle of the priest, his double life, his neck-laced bait.

Soon we'll see the old-guard and the cry-baby Dictator come to the fold.
As "Trois Bebe" crumbles, bold courtiers fumble as jesters fill the mold.
Noon we'll hear the old-vicar is thicker and emboldened by the sun, the bellyaching curator is straw-polled.

Glass-stained widows cry, fresco vendors' ice melt cold.
Blood seeps down the cracked streets of old, into the caverns of gold,
and sweet inspiration comes to these young boots, behold
As the sun sets, shoe-stained words fly, darkness creeps in, as the avant-guard Star foretold...Bam Nouvelle Moun Lakaye!

From Boots on Ground,
Victor Monton

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I have remained silent for many years about Pluie...

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RE: Jon Christian Sajous

It is time that I write about Jon Christian Sajous as my friend for a number of years. When I first showed the first...

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