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sad poetry

dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
comme égaliser tombe
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
je vous chante
j'ai vu qu'un dieu vous doutent de lui?
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
bonne femme
et pain de breaketh pas plus

 



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