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thanksgiving poetry

eu vou minha maneira complacently
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
eu não queimo nenhum incense
acima de e para baixo vai
muito bem, você liberais
felicidade
babylon -- onde eu vou sonhar
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
nunca em toda minha vida

 



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