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angel poem

bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
no puedo ahora decirle
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
si había sabido el estrecho una prisión es amor
no sea falso
era muchas y mucho hace un año
contra la llama verde del espino-a'rbol
oscilado en la horquilla del profundo
las viejas canciones
cuando miraba en sus ojos
ella era una belleza en los días
lanzaron una piedra, usted lanzaron una piedra
a través del pecho de dolor de la amplia tierra
usted es hermoso y descolorado

 



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