I'll roll this autumn as an old family album
Like the herbarium “It's been, it was, it would have been.
We were young and crazy”
What was it?
The pregnant plums, thorns, hawthorns,
fogs, the sun that does not warm.
And every day it's getting fewer leaves
in woods, in parks, in gardens.
The moon is hooked on the roof, so big, oh Christ!
The Orion belt crawls out of the horizon.
The air is so transparent and everything is as come down
from the Bosch paintings
to become a new picture in the old album.
Will I be filmed for it?
Who knows...