Does Francis Edeline's proximity to the Forest of the Ardennes account for his aptitude in finding 'tongues in trees, books in running brooks, / sermons in stones?' It can be said with a fair amount of certainty that this tall, learned and bearded Belgian engineer-poet is endowed, among numerous gifts, with a special flair for tracking down and collecting whatever mechanical contrivances, motor-assisted appliances, never-never instruments and generally any sort of physical construction tending to interpret and generate the concept of poetry. An apt instance of his keenness to sift poetry, or allusions conducive to it, from the practical world was afforded in 1986 in the city of Liège where the 15th Biennales Internationales de Poésie were held 11-15 September at the Palais des Congrès of this once prosperous town. In a slim, condensed catalogue¹ entitled La Chute des Feuilles (The falling of the leaves) and modestly subtitled Exposition de Machines Poétiques, Francis Edeline makes no bones about his conviction that 'mechanical' poetry is not just another way of considering poetry and certainly not an intellectual indulgence. It is poetry in its own right. Concrete and visual poetry have emerged and developed their own intrinsic values. He goes on to explain that it is only the combination of two specific planes or levels, space and movement, which can properly be considered as the basis of what one calls 'poetical machines'.

In fact, the poetical machines and the various artifacts exhibited in Liège are not meant to denigrate or to ...