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thanksgiving poem

ao lado de um campo stricken
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
e pão do breaketh mais
material da lua
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
carrinho aqui por meu lado
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
a escuridão
onde deva mim encontre-o
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
talvez
a luz retirada
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos

 



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