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african american poetry

e come potreste sogno della riunione
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
morbidamente piangendo
le tonalità della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
per venire così presto a questo ha immaginato l'oscurità
rose ed oro
forse è materia che avete morto
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
dialo
sto morendo
la musica i si è sentita con voi era più della musica

 



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