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tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
Ă  certains les gros dieux
par le rivage, par la mer
en matins nuage-gris
le poing serré simple soulevé et préparent
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
a arqué l'inondation
simplicité
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles

 



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  • Washingtonian Favorites: Meghan Grady - Washingtonian.com
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