De Aziz Zaâmoune (extrait de T-B 51)

            Combles

Du vert au marbre                                                                                                        

La distance pied de vigne                                                                                        

A dévaler                                                                                                               

A neuf.

     

            Une rose 

Debout comme un aveu                                                                                               

De frissons imberbes                                                                                                          

Elle croit au printemps

Debout pour rire                                                                                                                
Le songe carmin                                                                                                                   
A peine rose.

            L’envers de la rose

Rue Cactus                                                                                                                       

Et brumes assimilées :                                                                                              

L’attelage                                                                                                                       

Trois soleils vertébrés                                                                                                    

Tirant le vide au clair                                                                                                          

Il est plein                                                                                                                           

Il est délié.