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angel poem

com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
tempestade
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
não seja falso
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
quem estará nomeando o vento
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
melancolia, azul era
o movimento do seu corpo é como a música

 



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