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sympathy poem

ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
cara moglie
hanno gettato una pietra, voi hanno gettato una pietra
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
nel gather di nerezza e chiedono
questi sono
burly, humble-ape fare un pisolino
sceso all'alba dalle colline windless
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
le verità terribili questi sono
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
e con l'uccello di ronzio

 



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