#tarkos

“Poetry is a form of intelligence. The poet·ess prepares the conditions for intelligence. They purify their heart. They try things. They drop a stinking dead hare in a circle of chalk, they think, they write their secret with a yellow marker, on a board stained with the sperm of a young man and with the blood of a young mouse and they burn it, bite ripe peaches on the tree, head down, start laughing at a radiator, laughing alone, clap their hands, laugh out loud, they laugh, they laugh, the poet·ess debones themselves, they laugh with a great frank laugh.”

christophe tarkos: “une articulation sensée”

https://cipmarseille.fr/publication_fiche.php?id=701f22835a5bffede0e5537c717ff2eb

Summary: This takes place in the years Oros and Tarka worked enslaved in the lab run by the Emerald Chain. I seek to fill in the blanks between their first weeks and the day Tarka (spoiler) has to leave Oros behind.