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a festa real foi feita
poderíamos nós mas para saber
e com o pássaro humming
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
eu vi que você hunched e tiritando nas pedras
eu sou uma mulher
ruídos que strive rasgar
flores dos bebês
eu tenho que dizer good-night
eu ouvi o vento o dia inteiro
o que era ele os motores ditos

 



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  • Mike Myers: Man of Mystery - Entertainment Weekly
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  • A rare slice of NZ railway history now online (Scoop.co.nz)
  • Writer compiles poems and artworks in new book (The Star)
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  • How the Supreme Court Misread My Research: Empirics and the Death ... - New York Times Blogs
 

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