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poetry poem

eu encho este copo
na esfera
deus
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
a chuva sobre, e o ar brilhante
os arcos da ponte vermelha
uma milha atrás
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão

 



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