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graduation poem

éstos sean
hay uno que ese i amó una vez tanto
no cuelgue ninguna guirnalda
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
he visto las estrellas más orgullosas
para estos brazos blancos sobre mi cuello
ciudad que no es una ciudad
pero alas, sueños justos
en septiembre
me pregunto donde usted vive
quién es el corredor en los cielos
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio

 



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