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thanksgiving poem

la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
dai prati ricchi con cereale
limps con la fermata del passo doloroso
quando ho rinviato al tramonto
lucida l'ultima età, il seguente con speranza è visto
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità
che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
è spesso non così?
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
non brucio incenso
perchè
ho detto

 



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