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black poetry

mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
donnez-moi
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
un počt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
donc je ne puis pas
une brume entraînait une réduction
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
pharaoh, roi de la terre de l'Egypte
babylon -- oů je vais ręver
du plancher au plafond
dans l'obscurité et la paix de mon lit final

 



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