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death poem

eu não posso dizê-lo agora
eu não queimo nenhum incense
os navios estão encontrando-se na baía
filhas do tempo
agite
trançado e tecido
para a verdade, para o amor
este é o navio da pérola
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
não se aflija que sobre
acima dos prados ricos com milho
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas

 



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