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nature poem

avec les yeux doux et bruns
basculé dans le berceau du profond
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
ne soyez pas faux
tous apaisent le long du potomac
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
à minuit
l'obscurité
souvent je pense à la belle ville

 



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