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thanksgiving poetry

e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
irmão, eu sou fogo
última meia-noite
sobre o rio, no monte
eu encho este copo
sobre o rio beckon a mim
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
os céus que eram ashen e sober
você está desobstruído
eu quero saber onde você vive

 



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