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birthday poem

glooms des vivre-chênes
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
sommeil, frère gris de la mort
ombres à ailes balayant près
soyez dans moi comme modes éternels
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
elle était une beauté en jours
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
nous nous étendons
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
là où je trouvez-vous
comment sauvage, comment sorcière-comme étrange qui la vie devrait être

 



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