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mom poem

paredes e enorme elevados
era o outono do ano
sobre o rio beckon a mim
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
como ela
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
mulher boa
simplesmente falando
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
acima dos prados ricos com milho

 



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