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writing poetry

eu moldei o mundo
o alvorecer era verde maçã
simplesmente falando
amigo, cujo o sorriso veio ser
sob a folha dusky do laurel
ame-me no último, ou se você não
ido antes de nós
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
quem estará nomeando o vento
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado

 



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