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baby poem

en todas las cosas no habladas de
le detesté
cántele otra vez a canción cantado
los días endeared a cada MUSE
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
y cómo podría usted sueño de la reunión
solitario y solitario
levantado de los muertos
caras hermosas, tragical
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
las sombras de las naves
su cara es justa y lisa y fina

 



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