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as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
uma pena do aço
simplesmente falando
o prado estava rastejando
todos tragam os anos
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
os poetas dizem
disse
a algum os deuses gordos
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
quando eu estive escutar, discreetly dumb
eu quero saber onde você vive
eu moldei o mundo

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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  • Progressive Poetry - Center For American Progress
  • 10 Questions for Maria Shriver - TIME
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  • Calling young wordsmiths - Australian Star
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  • Child labour subject of high school event (Burlington Post)
  • The Los Angeles Black Book Expo Returns in 2008 - PR.com (press release)
  • Radio - Light programme - Stage
  • Yahara Elementary School enters the computer age (The Janesville Gazette)
  • Eric Waugh (Belfast Telegraph)
 

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