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black poetry

debajo de la luna de la cosecha
he tenido un miedo en mi vida
venido abajo en el amanecer de las colinas windless
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
en su vuelo
tristes son que saben no amor
el elevar, como el viento sopló
cómo como las estrellas es este el blanco, las caras sin nombre
es usted vivo?
hermano, soy fuego
la señora, su corazón ha dado vuelta al polvo
el mirar más allá
fuera del mar chispeante

 



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