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concrete poetry

era muitas e muito um ano há
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
não gire sua cabeça
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
agora para uma luta viva e cheerful
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
completamente dos rasgos
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
vivido pelo river-side

 



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  • Blogging day one of National Poetry Slam 2008 in Madison (Isthmus)
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  • THE BISHOP’S DAUGHTER: A Memoir, - Providence Journal
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  • Becoming Your Own Best Company - Medford Mail Tribune
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  • What happened to American-made? - La Crosse Tribune
  • Real Lives: Generous Duncan was a 'fantastic friend' of the Poetry ... - Edinburgh News
  • Nadine Chapman: Colleague and friend - Whitworthian
  • Entertainment briefs: Coming up around the area - Mansfield News Journal
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