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contemporary poetry

mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
splendor doux
gaily par les champs nous avons dansé
allé avant nous
je me tiens par temps gris froid
laissez une subsistance de joie vous
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
passé persistant de thou
souffleur de verre de temps
je suis fevered
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée

 



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