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african american poetry

dai nostri posti nascosti
quando venite stasera
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
dialo
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
ombre alate che scopano vicino
passato inesorabile di thou
sopra-avevo preparato l'evento
sotto il foglio dusky dell'alloro
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi

 



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