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thanksgiving poem

il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
il fratello, sono fuoco
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
esprimiamo le nostre passioni piů basse
era non per quell'odore singolare
i poets dicono a
quando ero si č rotto a Londra
sono una donna

 



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