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che cosa era esso i motori detti
scattando in su, cadendo
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
era un oysterman giovane alto
perchè facciali sempre basamento là che rabbrividisce
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
prima del san bronze solenne
uno per uno, come va da un albero
osservare di là
quando il velare dagli occhi è alzato
le verità terribili questi sono
ho visto che hunched e rabbrividendo sulle pietre
ciò è la canzone della gioventù

 



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