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eu tenho que dizer good-night
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
você é bonito e desvanecido
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
eu não queimo nenhum incense
homem frio stern
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
nós que estiveram
como águias na elevação ascendente
eu prendo seu coração
splendor doce
desolado e solitário
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho

 



Poetry news via Google, MSN, and Yahoo!

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  • Baptist Congress recognizes Black Press editor - St. Louis American
  • Wilfrid Rodgers, 88; reporter, editor, columnist for Globe - Boston Globe
  • Remembering Joseph Brodsky (The Post and Courier)
  • Waldport writing workshop blends learning with summer fun (Newport News-Times)
  • Sound Tracks | Various Artists - Baltimore City Paper
  • Glastonbury comes to Streatham festival - Sutton Guardian
  • J-Pop Idol: Volume 1 Review - IGN
  • Community Calendar (Pahrump Valley Times)
  • Carnival set for a day of family fun - Basingstoke Gazette
  • An Outpost on the edge of music - Watertown TAB & Press
  • Howard Mandel's freelance Urban Improvisation (Arts Journal)
  • Liberalism and lead (Lodi News-Sentinel)
 

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