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thanksgiving poem

behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
cara esposa
eu amo minha vida, mas nĂŁo demasiado bem
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
nunca em toda minha vida
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
nĂŁo do mundo largo do todo
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor

 



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