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concrete poetry

volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison
elle a dit
pour puis en dehors
du soleil ni des étoiles
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
je vous ai détesté
s'est levé et l'ambre était le coucher du soleil sur le fleuve
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
je me tiens par temps gris froid

 



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