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thanksgiving poetry

ho lanciato il mondo
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
splendor dolce
pensieri tramite la mia testa
glooms delle viv-quercie
al lato di un campo raso
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
sono vecchio e cieco
non prego per pace
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
quando, pieno di amore caldo e desideroso
notte mysterious
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
tutti quei tesori che si trovano

 



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