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erotic poem

candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
abbiamo nessuno shame?
vecchio vino da bere
ci un'ora di riposo pacifico
quando il velare dagli occhi alzato
tutti dentro e tutti senza di me
era una bellezza nei giorni
sto morendo
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
dal puntello, dal mare
con gli occhi meek e marroni
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi

 



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