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sex poem

você ouve a chuva?
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
nós colocamos
quem estará nomeando o vento
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
eu estou cantando-lhe
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
como um homem despido mim vai
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies

 



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