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death poetry

vi con los ojos abiertos
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
caído tan
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
sobre el río, en la colina
en sus regimentals desiguales
los drowses pálidos del día en el occidental empapan
y mi nombre es veraz
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana
flores de bebés
cuando, lleno de amor caliente e impaciente
felicidad
en el amanecer, él dijo

 



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