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prose poetry

ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
cuando las horas del día se numeran
hay una hora del resto pacífico
la oscuridad
hace de largo la luz del sol del verano brillar
mi amor verdadero de su almohadilla se levantó
dos filas de coles
en el puerto de York nueva
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
paredes y enorme altos
sobre el río, en la colina
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte

 



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