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life poem

bonne femme
nuit mystérieuse
homme froid sévère
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
je sais ce que vous allez dire
par le rivage, par la mer
par le pont grossier
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
nous n'étions pas beaucoup
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
composé seul du loveliness

 



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