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funeral poem

em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
como nivelar cai
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
deus
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
receoso não mais, eu digo
sob a lua da colheita
a algum os deuses gordos
como ela
flores dos bebês
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst

 



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