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deixe-nos plantar
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razăo
sobre o rio beckon a mim
do sol nem das estrelas
nós que estiveram
na esfera
balançado no berço do profundo
cara esposa
diz de épocas velhas boas
na meia-noite
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coraçăo da pedra
perguntam-me onde eu estive
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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  • Guest Essay: Tim W. Brown on the History and Future of Zines - mediabistro.com
  • 'Poetrix' had ballerina ambitions, but then ... - Montreal Gazette
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  • A PHONE CALL TO THE FUTURE - New York Times Blogs
 

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