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acrostic poem

una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
veda, rinviano
come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
ascolti il mare suonante
fiori dei bambini
per veritĂ , per amore
gli archi del ponticello rosso
i corridoi di marmo resounding lunghi
un'ombra grigia sottile sul bordo di pensiero
desolato e solo
la nerezza
un miglio dietro

 



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