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suicide poetry

todavía trece años
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
como ella
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
entre las montañas vagué
calma como que segundo verano
le estoy cantando
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado
velas que derriban de lado en latas del tomate

 



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