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Posthumous poetry of François Cailliarec ('68)François Cailliarec (class of '68) passed away in 1994. His classmate, Joshua Cohen, shared these details with us: "François died of meningitis while on vacation in Turkey in the summer of 1994. There was no forewarning. He became unconscious while traveling in the hinterlands of the country, was transported on the back of a truck to a hospital in the nearest city and passed away while in the hospital a day later. François was quite successful in the management and design of computer network administration systems and worked for several large corporations including Chase Manhattan Bank and Coopers Lybrand. He left a wife, Cathy, and child, Jason. His parents currently reside in Quimper, Brittany, France." Shortly after our last newsletter was published, a classmate of François from his years at Bard College (where Joshua was also his classmate) wrote to us and shared some poems that François had written while at Bard. To honor his memory, we are hereby publishing them posthumously here. DEUX She flows from herself A wound. Man sees his eyes Within her gaping sides. We hear them: one With two voices. We know them: two With one body. Touching ourselves Strangers moist and naked. We are reptiles Entwined within ourselves We are sloughed skins Drying jewels in the chameleon sun And within us. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ TO BILLIE HOLIDAY I With tears from my window I cannot offer my rain for your day I cannot scream for you; I am a perfect prisoner of this smooth-sharp glass II You stand outside....... Covered with the wilted skeletons of white gardenias, in your hair like words, they hold their meanings, And with your voice, like the scent of truth, You inhale and embrace everyone. But soon you are left alone Soon they defile your posthumous comb of life/ III I see your spirit haunting the streets where I once lived... I remember the iced gusts howling insanity between the tenements. IV I have shattered my window my wrists, my fists are not important. This was a mirror perhaps. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ MARINE Grand’mère est un phase dans 1e brouillard. Elle s’est tenue solide contre tant d’orages Sa lumière s’éteint doucement Comment vais-je naviguer mon vaisseau de part cette côte rocailleuse dorénavant ? +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ |
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