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sex poem

une fois ce gazon mou
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
le plus triste de l'année
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
et ainsi elle va
les voûtes du pont rouge
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
j'ai vu la première poire
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
fait longtemps polir la lumière du soleil d'été
un, comme part d'un arbre
allé avant nous
comment sauvage, comment sorcière-comme étrange qui la vie devrait être

 



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