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gothic poetry

sombras voadas que varrem perto
eu fiz um voto uma vez, um somente
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
se ele
macia weeping
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
ainda treze anos
esplĂŞndido e terrĂ­vel seu amor
eu tenho que dizer good-night
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
o oeste velho, o tempo velho

 



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