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romantic poetry

agora quando meus bordos viverem
calma como que segundo verão
f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
nós colocamos
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
diz de épocas velhas boas
fala não bem
eu não queimo nenhum incense
a noite era preta e drear
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas

 



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