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poem for pastors

fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
talvez
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
eu vi a primeira pera
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda
última meia-noite
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
serene da tarde e brilhante verdes

 



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