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acrostic poem

uma tempestade está montando na maré
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
veja, eles retornam
como ele de quem espírito na chama do meio-dia
escute o mar soando
flores dos bebês
para a verdade, para o amor
os arcos da ponte vermelha
os corredores de mármore resounding longos
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
desolado e solitário
a escuridão
uma milha atrás

 



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