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sad death poem

nous cassons le verre dont le vin sacré
dossier une nuit de vol
je me suis tenu prĂŞt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
du soleil ni des étoiles
vous a fait voient jamais un alligator
écoutez
ne vous affligez pas qu'elle plus de
un dieu
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
au-dessus du fleuve ils montrent Ă  moi

 



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