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math poem

os prayers brancos pequenos
raça elevado-carregada
traga-me a canção macia
ido antes de nós
você recorda
como eu me encontro telhado dentro, selecionado dentro
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
os arcos da ponte vermelha
não esteja irritado com mim
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
lá pela janela na casa velha
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
eu moldei o mundo

 



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