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gothic poetry

sol y viento y golpe del mar
encima de los prados ricos con maíz
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
los pequeños rezos blancos
su pelo hermoso
amé a mujer
¡bajo!' tis a la noche de la gala
estrella-polvo y luz vaporosa
dígame no
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
las sombras ponen a lo largo de broadway
quizás
una milla detrás
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres

 



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