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thanksgiving poetry

la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
tenía un sueño y me desperté con él
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
si era muy seguro
estaba parado
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
el misterio más oscuro, más extraño
usted es hermoso y descolorado
usted está claro
caras hermosas, tragical
a lo largo de una orilla
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
algunos días más ventosos

 



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