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christian poem

per questi bracci bianchi circa il mio collo
bucks neri grassi in una stanza del vino-barilotto
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
veda che mi dò voi
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
una foschia stava guidando giù
le vecchie canzoni
le verità terribili questi sono

 



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