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suicide poem

pero no puedo ahora leerle
nuestros momentos agradables vuelan
caras hermosas, tragical
por la orilla, por el mar
cuando miraba en sus ojos
sea paciente, vida, cuando el amor está en la puerta
porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
arriba y abajo de él va
un pájaro cantó
el amanecer era verde
ésta es la nave de la perla
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado

 



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