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poem for dad

ella estalló el vino feroz
debajo del timón del guerrero
sol y viento y golpe del mar
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
lo van
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente
dulce y fuerte
renueve la visión del placer
aflíjase no para el invisible
pero no puedo ahora leerle

 



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  • WEEKEND: Prentis Smith - PCC Courier
  • Booklovers Read and Relax at Bed and Breakfasts from Oregon to DC - 3x24 - Your Newspaper and News Magazine
  • 2008 Maine Literary Festival to Focus on the Environment - MarketWatch
  • ‘I Used to Dream’ to premiere at HCYR - West Kerr Current
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