Funambulist

None speak of the pious in history:
 Notre Dame conquered by a poète mauldit.
 Beyond France's gendarmes and butchery
 rose my twin-eyed concrete Babel staring
 down the gods.
 Stir their hearts;
 men applaud
 crime as art.
 Violent birth.
 Pile driver lances
 pierce the earth
 and bleed the clouds.
 (Walk on its veins)
 Steel and glass.
 The propance dancers
 wrap this mass
 in burning shrouds.
 (Forest of cranes.)
 New York, I adopt this child.
 Flight over the ocean,
 mind as vine to stone
 on a tower.
 Sleight of foot in motion,
 twined aroud a throne.
 I count and count the hours.
 Alea jacta est.
 Wire.
 A workman's attire.
 The years we conspired
 finally bear fruit
 this August
 mo(u)rn
 a nation forlornm
 its emperor shorn
 of august suit
 by modest blades.
 As I walk he fades.
 500 pound weight.
 Whisked up the freight
 to south level
 one zero
 fo(u)r
 the nightwatchman's snore,
 my skull on the floor,
 sold ot the devil
 for heroes'
 deeds.
 To the skies I lead.
 Bowman draws the string.
 Ropes and cable...
 ...cling stowaway to the arrow's flight;
 at missle's point, north and south unite.
 Cordina, clamp, cavaletti, knot...
 At backbreaking dawn, the wires pull taut.
 Rope still sways.
 Winds will rage.
 Heart ablaze,
 I wage
 war
 on fate.
 Fear devoid,
 lungs inflate,
 tempt the void:
 The first step.
 Le néant.
 Vos chants, vos cris, je les entends.
 A chaque pas, le nuages s'adoucissent.
 Je danse. Elégance.
 Je me permets un sourir:
 Si je meurs, quelle mort!
 Avec les dieux à mes pieds.
 I wave, I sit, I rest, I dream.
 Speak to birds
 words of calm.
 Psalms of faith
 swathe no auspice
 wreaked by siren howls.
 Uproar from the lowland:
 the rattle of lawmen's chains.
 The lords of the northland
 cast me to the plains
 a mortal man.
 The last step.
 Nona, spin your thread.
 Join it to the Sun,
 so I may walk.
 Morta, rouse your dead.
 Tell them of the sun,
 for with me they walk.