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christmas poem

nella sfera
le preghiere bianche piccole
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
chi chiamerĂ  il vento
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
quando ero si è rotto a Londra
il prato stava strisciando
dio
parla non bene
una penna di acciaio
che probabilitĂ  spiteful ruba i unawares
faccialo rotare giĂą dal prato
sono fevered

 



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