Bonjour !
I'm French, and I speak very bad your language ! But I want to write americans poems, so if you are OK to help me to perfect this poems, all your remarks are welcome !
French Poet vs American Language
(first)
Is Jackie Kennedy always hiding under the car ?
They took pleasure, last night, in the El Paso motel, in the ampersand sexual position, long after they saw in the morning street a drunk woman with eyes as...
Is Jackie Kennedy always hiding under the car ?
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(second)
When the neon lights pass away like a dying wasp... Night is so fresh and tender.
I have misunderstood how stars are a delicate wood.
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(third)
Car tears through, the earth's contour is the road in front of her,
car tears through the air under the sky, pink as a clipped dog,
tears through the mucous of speed.
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(fourth)
Her make up is a cracked pond, her hair a tumbleweed.
She is an old american woman. She has a lactose intolerant son.
She lives near the Pacific Ocean, and his soft murmurring sound.
Standing on the beach, looking all around, in her too tight blue jeans, in her mind a growling cat.
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(fifth)
I.
Pig is a Charles Manson word. Brothers & sisters Altamont words. Snake a Jim Morisson word. Peace is a Dakota Building word. Snake a John Lee Hooker word.
II.
Towards the pigs, brother snake & sister snake are crawling on the grass, undulating as a dollar bill in the wind, a dollar bill that's moving like a flag.
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(sixth)
He got his DNA tatooed on his arm, from the armpit to the wrist. His blood is a river without estuary.
He had looked at the pretty barmaid, and he's dreaming of sliding back up her leg - as a scrollbar - to click on her...
On the tuner Lennon sings "Instant Karma".
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(seventh)
A haiku for Hermione
She gets dizzy if she looks down : the size of the cars is the birds in the sky.
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(eighth)
A human in a plane is a bird in a cage.
Trees are chatting with the wind, but the hairless ground is deft.
Desert is going... Desert is going...
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(ninth)
My name is Jezis Khrust, and I know how to make a cross with two bones.
My father is a dog, and the fog is his coat.
I can talk without the throat, and cry with my hands, and walk on the sand too.
My face is a tattoo on my baby's flesh, and you can see my face when she's topless.
I can, also, bless.
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