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erotic poem

el más triste del año
por el puente grosero
el cuerpo puede confinar
apenas como mis dedos en estas llaves
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
porqué tan es triste mi encantador?
una sombra gris fina en el borde del pensamiento
hace tres años hoy
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
flores de bebés
usted está claro
en pueda
debajo de la hoja oscura del laurel

 



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