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prose poetry

pentru aceste arme albe despre gâtul meu
ceea ce face i pentru a vă datorez
a fost în toamna anului
Babylon unde-i merge vise
mai există un o dată că am iubit atât de mult
negru de grăsime de dolari într-un butoi de vin - cameră
i nu poate spune te acum
Nu pot sa simt întotdeauna măreţia
I sta în frig gri vreme
şi numele meu este veridică
lumanari toppling lateral, în cutii de roşii
veni in zori de la dealurile windless
ca am acoperit în minciună, în ecranate
de la cântec şi de vis pentru a dus vreodată

 



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