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poem for pastors

os prayers brancos pequenos
mas eu năo posso lę-lo agora
mulher boa
vocę pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em vocę
sobre o rio, no monte
eu amo minha vida, mas năo demasiado bem
eu estou morrendo
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido
o corpo pode confinar
melhore do que o granito
jogaram uma pedra, vocę jogaram uma pedra
passado unrelenting do thou
cara esposa

 



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