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    November 07

    musique atonale \ 12

    * irréversible
     
     
     
     
    les veines sont des pièges à loups
     
    un vertige
     
    les os tendent les oiseaux s'ouvrent dans la poitrine
     
     
     
    refuge
        l'iris une église
     
     
     
    le geste juste et
    je trouve mes mains pleines de forêts
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     

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    Morgan Rietwrote:
    " je trouve mes mains pleines de forêts"... et quelle senteur subtile délivre l'ensemble de ton poéme ! J'aime à me réfugier dans son mouvement d'ailes.
    Merci.
    Nov. 9

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