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footprint poem

com o por do sol
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
năo há nenhum escape pelo rio
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
antes do saint de bronze solemn
qual se mantem
os arcos da ponte vermelha
tempestade
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
muito bem, vocę liberais
um pęssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
na meia-noite
pela costa, pelo mar

 



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