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angel poem

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
sad são que sabem não o amor
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
um olhar é mas um raio
deixe-nos plantar
eighty anos passaram, e mais
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
flores dos bebês
eu amei uma mulher
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta

 



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