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birthday poetry

alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
oscillato nella culla del profondo
la signora, il vostro cuore si è girata verso polvere
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
ci è uno che quella i amava una volta così tanto
al lato di un campo raso
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
città che non è una città
ha una radura, loveliness vento-riparato
la neve bisbiglia circa me
ad alcuno i dii grassi
all'alba, ha detto

 



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