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sad poetry

è spesso non così?
amilo in fine, o se non
tre anni fa oggi
sopra loro tutte, osservando giù
dal sud alla rottura del giorno
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
buona donna
l'aria è come una farfalla
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
ed il mio nome è sincero
aranci di coglitura nubian blu-neri
forse è materia che avete morto
splendido e terribile il vostro amore

 



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