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family poetry

como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
qual se mantem
desolado e solitário
disse
no porto de york novo
faça exame de meus bracelets
rosas e ouro
sumário em uma noite do vôo
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim

 



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