To bend down To the second Something is happening At the risk of going down to paradise In beauty Gently A pearl between your teeth Like yesterday like tomorrow.
We will see the first stars there By virtue of poetry To avoid compromising At the back of the head What the adult says Trap to break the wire Of the child pushing far ahead of him The plastic wheelbarrow.
It is possible Let a blackbird pass And iron on the washing line Accumulating yellow beaks From the community In infinite facilitation To be the master of the place With a reputation for pure ecstasy.
A bit of smile To open in reduced model To the rehabilitation of the domain of the adults Simply Under the plant cover Keeping the heat low The handful of chickpeas Thrown on the embers.
To offer On a bed of moss The white stone Like stained glass Crossed by light Fine tip of the calamus Inscribing some sign In floating attention.
I ride therefore I am In color on the clay Crunching under the sole Open barn door Pigmented with wormholes Just time to recover The tin bucket Filled with bulbous casein.
