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short poem

el dulce con el fern y se levantó
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
su pelo hermoso
flores de bebés
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
cuál deseo comentar
puesto que, si usted hizo una pausa mi lado hoy
una vez este césped suave
había tres en el prado al lado del arroyo
la nieve susurra sobre mí
paredes y enorme altos
mientras que estaba parado escuchar, discreto mudo
trenzado y tejido
hay cualquiera allí

 



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