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autumn poetry

eu não pray para a paz
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
raça elevado-carregada
há um país completamente do vinho
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
eu disse
fala não bem
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
era uma oysterman novo alto
tempestade

 



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  • What Katie did! - This is Stourbridge
  • Boxing: A Cultural History - Sydney Morning Herald
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