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grandmother poem

les petites prières blanches
plantons
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
effrayé pas plus, je dis
vieux vin à boire
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
sous la barre du guerrier
en tant qu'elle
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
volonté vous miroitez sur la mer?
je réside à la montagne de table

 



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