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writing poetry

deve ir para trás, disse
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
estes sejam
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
na meia-noite
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
bonito
acima dos prados ricos com milho
aflija-se não para o invisível
antes do saint de bronze solemn
receoso não mais, eu digo
os arcos da ponte vermelha
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo

 



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