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acrostic poem

hay aumentos para todas nuestras pérdidas
es usted vivo?
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
hay cualquiera allĂ­
tormenta
una milla detrás
ella sabe un lanzamiento barato
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
melancolĂ­a, azul era
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
un poeta, tomando el frenillo de su lengĂĽeta
pienso a menudo en la ciudad hermosa
todavĂ­a su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar
con su pelo flaying violentamente

 



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