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fall poetry

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
les jours hypocrites
les bateaux se situent dans le compartiment
faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
à l'amoureux passionné
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
il y a une heure du repos paisible
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
vous entendez la pluie?
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée


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