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retirement poem

non brucio incenso
conosco non dove
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
il piĂą triste dell'anno
era un oysterman giovane alto
dal ponticello rude
la nerezza ruba le forme di tutte le regine
dove io trovili
portimi la canzone morbida
appena come mie barrette su queste chiavi
in tutte le cose non parlate di
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
non appenda corona

 



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