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mother poem

deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
gloom
poderíamos nós mas para saber
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
eu sou velho e cego
deixe-nos plantar
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
sumário em uma noite do vôo
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway

 



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