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baby poem

avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
quand je suis retourné au coucher du soleil
êtes vous éveillé?
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
mais je ne puis pas vous lire maintenant
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
levé des morts
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
je vous chante
jamais dans toute ma vie
je suis dans l'amour avec les endroits prévoyants élevés
babylon -- où je vais rêver


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