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poem for dad

le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
la femme a beaucoup manqué, comment vous appelez à moi, appel à moi
quelques jours plus venteux
les poèts le disent
l'air est plein de l'aube et du ressort
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
tristement parlant
l'obscurité
je réside à la montagne de table
jamais dans toute ma vie
ces coeurs ont été tissés des joies et des soins humains

 



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