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love poem

um por um, como sae de uma árvore
talvez
quando eu estive escutar, discreetly dumb
cidade que não é uma cidade
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
em setembro
quem estará nomeando o vento
um poeta, fazendo exame do breio fora de sua lingüeta
eu gosto d
o justo e stately empregada doméstica, cujos olhos
sobre o rio, no monte
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim

 



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