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pumpkin poem

voyez, ils retournent
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu
elle doit retourner, elle a dit
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
je la pense splendide juste
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
elle a un espace libre, loveliness vent-abrité

 



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