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cowboy poetry

flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
algum queixou-se ao mestre
na meia-noite
um pensamento doce solemn
laranjas arrancando nubian azul-pretas
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
nós colocamos
carrinho aqui por meu lado
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
sob a lua da colheita
pela ponte rude
eu ganhei a raça
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
eu moldei o mundo

 



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