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epic poetry

bas! 'tis par nuit de gala
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
je la pense splendide juste
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
vous faites ne pas entendre
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
je me suis tenu
hors de moi indigne et inconnu
une fois ce gazon mou
un mille derrière
en septembre

 



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