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death poetry

ésta es la canción de la juventud
como miento cubierto adentro, defendido adentro
raza alto-llevada
el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
debajo del timón del guerrero
en números mournful
de nuestros lugares ocultados
un pequeño melocotón en la huerta creció
entre el humo y la niebla de una tarde de diciembre
oí el viento todo el dia
cortocircuito y dulce, y hemos venido al extremo de él
solitario y solitario

 



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