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christmas poetry

ma alas, sogni giusti
era non per quell'odore singolare
i nostri momenti piacevoli volano
mi domando dove vivete
le ombre pongono lungo broadway
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
stella-polvere e luce vaporous
non giri la vostra testa
era un oysterman giovane alto
la notte era nera e drear
aumentato dai morti
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa

 



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