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poem for dad

em sua barraca guardada
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
sobre o rio, no monte
vontade vocę glimmer no mar?
vocę ouve a chuva?
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
eu quero saber ŕs vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
na esfera
a escuridăo rola para cima
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro

 



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