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type of poetry

città che non è una città
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
corsa alto-sopportata
sono vecchio e cieco
sono una donna
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
vecchio vino da bere
quando vado di nuovo a terra
dal pavimento al soffitto
non dal mondo largo di tutto
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato

 



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