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prose poetry

baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
eu sou velho e cego
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
no porto de york novo
tem por muito tempo a luz solar do verão brilhada
como uma vela branca
todo meu amor para meu doce
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
eu soube o silêncio das estrelas e do mar
duas fileiras dos repolhos
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas

 



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