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suicide poetry

non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato
la gradisco
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
ora
braided e tessuto
oscillato nella culla del profondo
è ci qualcuno là
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante

 



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