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teen poetry

com alegria e maravilha
ido antes de nós
glass-blower do tempo
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
bonito
diz de épocas velhas boas
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
o ar é como uma borboleta

 



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