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nature poem

il est venu me prendre par la main
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
elle connaît un dégagement bon marché
je vous ai détesté
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
les jours hypocrites
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
clair de lune profond et tendre
voyez que je me donne vous
donnez-moi

 



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