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fall poem

course haut-soutenue
le pré rampait
foncé-eyed
trois jours je les ai entendus s'affliger quand je m'étends complètement
je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
peu de porte a été atteinte enfin
vieux vin à boire
dans ma main je me tiens
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui

 



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