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poem for dad

pour venir tellement bientôt à ceci a imaginé l'obscurité
monde qui change sous ma main
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
dans des vos bras était le plaisir immobile
effrayé pas plus, je dis
un oiseau a chanté
une fois ce gazon mou
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
une ombre grise mince sur le bord de la pensée
roses et or
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles

 



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