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thanksgiving poetry

dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
ainsi tombé
parmi les montagnes j'ai erré
à minuit
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
s'il
êtes vous vivant?
nous avons aucune honte?
je dois dire bonne nuit
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'étends complètement

 



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