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funny poetry

l'enfant qui a jeté la feuille après feuille
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
mais alas, rêves justes
juste en tant que mes doigts sur ces clefs
fleurs des bébés
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
il est venu me prendre par la main
la nuit était noire et triste
au-dessus des dessus de toit emballez les ombres des nuages
j'ai vu les archangels dans mon pomme-arbre la nuit passée
j'ai moulé le monde
deux rangées des choux
beau

 



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