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nobility da morte outra vez
a lua levantando-se escondeu as estrelas
sombras voadas que varrem perto
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
nós colocamos
prazeres mid e palácios embora nós podemos vaguear
temos nós nenhum shame?
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho

 



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  • Herb Gold, elder statesman of the Beat Generation, writes on - The Jewish Journal of greater L.A
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  • Anthrax suspect: Divided man - Minneapolis Star Tribune
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