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thanksgiving poem

non dal mondo largo di tutto
fino alla sua finestra dell'alloggiamento
li prevedo
la neve bisbiglia circa me
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
nella terra silenziosa
ci č un'ora di riposo pacifico
calma come che seconda estate
i poets dicono a
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
lo ho visto una volta prima
i giorni endeared ad ogni MUSE
sposti la terra in tempo nuvoloso

 



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