Sunday, July 24, 2011

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.

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