.Nuages de faïence relevés de nacre
Mon pinceau courbe l'échine comme un cheval de fiacre
J'ai esquissé la lune sur une toile de nuit
En laissant ma fortune aux clés do paradis.
Vent d'aquarelle
Buissons huilés :
Palette charnelle
Je ne suis plus un arc-en-ciel
J.
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