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memorial poem

perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
riempio questa tazza
se fossi molto sicuro
ci situiamo
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
mi domando dove vivete
perchè allora, il mosto noi vede?
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
cara moglie
la terra mantiene certo andare di vibrazione
la festività reale è stata fatta
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male

 



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