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suicide poetry

perguntam-me onde eu estive
era uma oysterman novo alto
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
o prado estava rastejando
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
uma tempestade está montando na maré
mundo que muda sob minha mão
doce e forte
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
em setembro

 



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