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baby poem

em todas as coisas não faladas de
eu detestei-o
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
os dias endeared a cada MUSE
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
e como poderia você sonho da reunião
desolado e solitário
levantado dos mortos
caras bonitas, tragical
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
as sombras dos navios
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina

 



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