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son poem

diami la fame
sotto la mia finestra in una via della cittĂ 
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
morbidamente ora la luce del giorno
sole e vento e battimento del mare
noi che si sono levati in piedi
dicami piĂą di meno o dicami di piĂą
veda, rinviano
la festività reale è stata fatta
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
non posso ora dirvi
vivo dalla riva del fiume

 



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