Recording | Godefroy Dronsart

> Diane sometimes I 

                                    doubt that any place

can be called home or called 

                                               anything else

than the knowledge of its trees

or the glossolalia of its dead erupting

into shattered plastic

                                  flowers //

I’m told there are dried petals

in my neighbour’s sheets, 

                                           that love

is never drawn in straight line - that

the modern groove is complicated

like a vinyl eye // I don’t know

                                               who that man was

>> he confuses the 

                                room 

                                          out of me

but I look for him when I can //

Diane tomorrow your brother hides

                                                         his face and I 

 ask for the key to the first mountain [  ]

Godefroy Dronsart is a poet, teacher and musician currently residing next to Paris. His poems have been published in Paris Lit Up, PostBLANK, Lunar Poetry among others and his first chapbook, The Manual, available through Sweat Drenched Press, explores the hybrid space between poetry, prose and game rules. He is childishly enthusiastic about strange, experimental and modernist art as well as tabletop rpgs, occultism and alchemy. His electronic music can be found at bandcamp.com/OzoneGrass and his bird calls at @OzoneGrass.