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death poem

amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
non giri la vostra testa
basamento qui dal mio lato
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
poco parco che attraverso
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
parla non bene
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
felicitŕ
come candela bianca
aranci di coglitura nubian blu-neri
la mia anima č un campo arato scuro
sia in me come gli atteggiamenti eternal
ombre alate che scopano vicino

 



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