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concrete poetry

fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
dal profondo e l'oscurità
gaily attraverso i campi abbiamo ballato
la sua faccia è giusta e liscia e fine
ci era uno strangeness sui vostri labbri
del sole né stelle
parla non bene
cantili ancora alla canzone cantati
ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano

 



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