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poetry in motion

il y a mille années silencieuses
j'ai vu la première poire
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
dans une vieille chambre s'est doucement allumé
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
dans votre vol
dites-moi pas
l'air est comme un papillon
quand je vais de nouveau à la terre
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave
ils me demandent où j'ai été
quand j'étais un garçon à l'université

 



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