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concrete poetry

le estoy cantando
serene de la tarde y brillante verdes
usted oye la lluvia?
si muero, piense solamente esto en mí
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
cómo es salvaje, cómo bruja-como extraño que la vida debe ser
sol y viento y golpe del mar
tengo que decir buonas noches
melancolía, azul era
resido en la montaña de la tabla
la oscuridad rueda hacia arriba
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla

 



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