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poem and quote

levé des morts
du plancher au plafond
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
la lune se levante a caché les étoiles
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
une brume entraînait une réduction
une pensée gentiment solennelle
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
quand les heures du jour sont numérotées
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
orage

 



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