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family poetry

ŕ minuit
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
je ne prie pas pour la paix
il aurait męme sa plaisanterie
dans ma main je me tiens
tous apaisent le long du potomac
j'ai entendu qu'une certaine princesse
l'air est comme un papillon
je suis le vent qui hésite
je l'aime
comment comme les étoiles sont ces le blanc, les visages inconnus
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai

 



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