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erotic poetry

il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
lascilo muoversi lentamente tramite la via
all'interno della mia mano tengo
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
dal ponticello rude
ascolti il mare suonante
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
dicami più di meno o dicami di più
le ombre delle navi
in possa
andato prima di noi
questi cuori sono stati tessuti delle gioie umane e cure

 



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