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wedding poetry

dans le port de New York
dossier une nuit de vol
le petit pitoyable, porté, visages de rire
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
je meurs
j'ai aimé une femme
truely
fleurs des bébés
le ciel
je remplis cette tasse
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
au-dessus du fleuve, sur la colline
pour moi étais un conseiller décharné et grave

 



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