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prose poetry

gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
je dédaigne mes amis davantage que vous
calme en tant que que deuxième été
je n'ai jamais su que la terre a eu tellement l'or
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
la lumière retirée
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante

 



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