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teen love poem

al lato di un campo raso
là dalla finestra nella vecchia casa
calma come che seconda estate
short e dolce ed abbiamo arrivato alla fine di esso
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
chi chiamerà il vento
ho visto che hunched e rabbrividendo sulle pietre
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
diami la fame
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
così perso
vecchio vino da bere
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù

 



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