The Face Poem by Pierre Rausch

She opens it to the perforrmance door,
Her hair lets crisp the wind,
Shadow divides her face, the face
She stands there in the open door,
She'd greet the gipsy wind,
Her wind is the hair, the hair,
Colors plaint red-stick scarlet
Make-up paints this starlet
The Media flush it
Clowns have got it, worn on bitter floor
Gravity receipts or fake cats
Acrobats sieve dog bats
Fingerprinted into amulet
Guash garnered outlet
In the debts of your more
Fragile plants on score
Shadow parts her face, the face
Born again from your rhythm
Summertime verve got bidden
Gravity receipts, acrobats
Plastic dogs or fake cats
Relocates in laude
Fantastic auditor L. Aude
Clowns on bitter floor
Twitter autumn
Fragile plants on score
In the debug of a moor
The face, the face