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prose poetry

en y de sí mismo
hay una hora del resto pacífico
vea, de esta falsificación de él
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
solitario y solitario
flor blanca de la espuma, flor roja de la llama
dondeyo encuéntrele
si era muy seguro
tiene usted el caminar visto a través de la aldea
el eliminar, luchando vainly
estoy viejo y oculto
había una época en años anteriores
a alguno los dioses gordos

 



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