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poem for pastors

aumentato dai morti
dite che lo amate
mi chiedono dove sono stato
una foschia stava guidando giů
chi ama la pioggia
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
ascolti il mare suonante
la sua faccia č giusta e liscia e fine
veda lo sperimentale
che cosa era esso i motori detti
alcuni giorni piů ventosi
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe

 



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