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concrete poetry

movimento del vostro corpo è come musica
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
questa ciotola d'argento antica di mine
in settembre
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
morbido come la base nella terra
quando ho esaminato i vostri occhi
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
buona donna
ascolti il mare suonante
glooms delle viv-quercie
fate non sentirsi
la canzone e sogno da per andato mai
per allora senza

 



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