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mom poem

sto cantando voi
che cosa era esso i motori detti
contro la fiamma verde dell'cratego-albero
hanno gettato una pietra, voi hanno gettato una pietra
le tonalitŕ della notte stavano cadendo velocemente
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
in qualche luogo ho letto un racconto sconosciuto, vecchio, arrugginito
non brucio incenso
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
era non per quell'odore singolare
con gli occhi meek e marroni

 



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