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son poem

un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
écoutez la mer retentissante
je remplis cette tasse
de nos endroits cachés
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
un, comme part d'un arbre
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
comme un homme nu je vont
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
vous vous rappelez
elle pourrait l'avoir su en ressort premier

 



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