Every means of communication what is call languages are mysteries
I am a foreigner in an insulated capsule
I taste. I explore. I take samples to try and break loneliness
I'm learning. Maybe, one day, I will be truely able to write and talk.

vendredi 19 septembre 2008

Jack Kerouac et le Haïku

...

Arms folded
to the moon,
Among the cows

The bottom of my shoes
Are clean
From walking in the rain

Blackbird
No ! Bluebird !
Branch still jumping


Drunk as a hoot-owl,
writing letters
By thunderstrom.

Came down
from my ivory tower
and found no world

Jack KEROUAC In

Itinéraire dans l'errance

de Bertrand Agostini et Christiane Pajotin
Editions :Paroles d'aube
ISBN 2-84384-003-1

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