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lost love poem

la nerezza
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
la gradisco
short e dolce ed abbiamo arrivato alla fine di esso
è spesso non così?
un miglio dietro
è andato
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
senza sosta
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
nel porto di nuovo York
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
ho visto con gli occhi aperti

 



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