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friend poem

mon amour vrai de son oreiller a monté
tous en baisse les années
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages
jamais dans toute ma vie
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
roses et or
a arqué l'inondation
effrayé pas plus, je dis

 



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