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pouca porta foi alcançada no último
macio como a cama na terra
o que nós fará agora
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
todo meu amor para meu doce
os poetas dizem
os arcos da ponte vermelha
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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  • Knowledge: An outdated concept? - Capitol Hill Blue
  • Q&A with author Ursula K. Le Guin - Corvallis Gazette-Times
  • Satchel’s Grill in Downtown Boise will close on Aug. 23 - IdahoStatesman.com
  • BROOKLYN GETS BOOKED (New York Press)
  • Remarks by the First Lady During a Visit to the Carl Sandburg Home ... - PR Inside
  • Michael Redhill to judge 2009 Griffin Poetry Prize - CBC News
  • The problem with Democraticese - Salon
 

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