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pumpkin poem

un orage monte sur la marée
et mon nom est véridique
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
la terre garde aller de vibration
effrayé pas plus, je dis
ce qui était lui les moteurs dits
dans ma main je me tiens
doux comme lit dans la terre
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
tout mon amour pour mon bonbon
doucement pleurant
je suis fevered
une pensée gentiment solennelle
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré

 



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