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death poetry

f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
muito bem, você liberais
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
sumário em uma noite do vôo
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
este é o navio da pérola

 



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