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death poetry

come le aquile sul high alto
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
ho vinto la corsa
quando venite stasera
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
una foschia stava guidando giù
ma alas, sogni giusti

 



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