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thanksgiving poem

in corridoi di sonno avete vagato vicino
penso spesso alla cittŕ bella
le montagne sono gente silenziosa
tramite il seno facente male della vasta terra
ho fatto una pausa la stoffa per tendine aperta
in tutte le cose non parlate di
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
l'alba era verde mela
ascolti il mare suonante
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
all'alba, ha detto
piantiamo
come un uomo nudo io va

 



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