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short friendship poem

la noblesse de la mort encore
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
doux comme lit dans la terre
l'obscurité vole les formes de toutes les reines
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
un stylo d'acier
je vois tous les esprits humains
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
tandis que je tenais l'écoute, discrètement sourde-muette
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous

 



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