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concrete poetry

diz de épocas velhas boas
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
como uma vela branca
e nse
a fragrância veio
eu estou cantando-lhe
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
moonlight profundo e macio
arched a inundação

 



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