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short funny poem

li ho sentiti nella notte
una foschia stava guidando giù
la festività reale è stata fatta
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
bello
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
nel porto di nuovo York
i drowses pallidi di giorno sull'occidentale bagnano
il più triste dell'anno
circa ha sporto querela al padrone
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
lasci il unsaid bello di parole

 



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