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angel poem

hace tres años hoy
una mirada es solamente un rayo
haga a muchachos y las muchachas todavía van
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
una tormenta está montando en la marea
hace usted no oír
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
arrojé mi alma al aire como un vuelo del halcón
para mirar todo el dia la onda azul encresparse y romperse
ella cojea con parar paso doloroso
las montañas son gente silenciosa

 



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