Réfugiés Des Jours Jetés Poem by Philippe Gravel
Réfugiés Des Jours Jetés
Pour échouer dans la cuvette fatale
Des réfugiés erraient au préalable
Sur ces flancs aux devises de meringues
Qui insupportaient les caprices de leurs dents bouffantes
Pour échapper au gouffre
Ils auraient trimballé
Jusqu'à leur gosier
Jusqu'à leur écluses cirrhotiques
Vingt, trente peut-être plus
Petites ambres
Petites nuées de repos bourbon.
Tuesday, August 14, 2018
Topic(s) of this poem: paganism
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5/5/2024 12:59:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
