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sommeil, frère gris de la mort
quand le voile des yeux est soulevé
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
monde qui change sous ma main
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
le bonbon avec la fougère et s'est levé
et avec l'oiseau de ronflement
orage
un stylo d'acier
oranges de plumaison nubian bleu-noires
hauts murs et énorme
j'ai dit, j'ai fermé mon coeur
dites-moi
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu

 



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