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grandmother poem

vi los archangels en mi manzana-a'rbol ayer por la noche
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
estaba parado
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
hice un voto una vez, uno solamente
allí por la ventana en la vieja casa
el sol está para arriba
ella estalló el vino feroz
éstos sean
en un viejo compartimiento se encendió suavemente
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo

 



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