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thanksgiving poetry

na terra silenciosa
eu v todas as sagacidades humanas
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
mundo que muda sob minha mão
perguntam-me onde eu estive
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
porque
no recolhimento da escuridão e pedem
como uma vela branca
eu estive
eu quero saber onde você vive
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu ganhei a raça

 



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