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concrete poetry

le plus triste de l'année
Ă  travers He va
vécu à côté de la rive
les vieilles chansons
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
élever, comme vent a soufflé
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
le pré rampait
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
les bateaux se situent dans le compartiment
il aurait mĂŞme sa plaisanterie
filles de temps

 



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