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mother poem

lassen Sie uns unsere niedrigeren Neigungen ausdrücken
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
gloom
könnten wir aber zu wissen
in der LageSEIN, jede Seite jeder Frage zu sehen
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens
ich bin alt und blind
lassen Sie uns errichten
Stern-Staub und vaporous Licht
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
Schriftsatz auf einer Fliegennacht
Schatten legen entlang broadway

 



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