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suicide poem

sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
ce que je souhaite remarquer
il y a un pays complètement de vin
il y a bien longtemps, dans le jeune clair de lune
il n'y a aucune évasion par le fleuve
ville qui n'est pas une ville
il aurait même sa plaisanterie
doux et fort
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre

 



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