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family poetry

come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
una pesca piccola nel frutteto si è sviluppata
quale si conservare
desolato e solo
ha detto
nel porto di nuovo York
prenda i miei bracelets
rose ed oro
riassunto su una notte di volo
se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me

 



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