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wedding poetry

et mon nom est véridique
dans pouvez
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
sous la lune de moisson
la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
je meurs
quand les mer-vents ont percé nos solitudes
basculé dans le berceau du profond
je vois tous les esprits humains
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé

 



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