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poem

piantiamo
ottanta anni hanno passato e più
ho fatto una volta soltanto un voto, uno
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
il mio amore allineare dal suo cuscino è aumentato
basamento qui dal mio lato
malinconia, azzurro era
la musica i si è sentita con voi era più della musica
ombre alate che scopano vicino
e con l'uccello di ronzio
diami la fame
li prevedo
in sua tenda custodita
esistere dello swan

 



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