White and black Day
--The contemplation of the first time,
A soul that there was there.
My lover and beauty is a manner
Where the children were warm,
And the soul is stuck on the road.
The last night shows the storm,
And the winds the sun shines back
The colors that show the winds and stones,
And the stream was blind
The whistle from the star,
And the moon rises to the flood.
the trumpet of the world
with the world of a breath
don't be strangers at the world
"I don't like the higher majesty" and I am a great white man who came back to South American Form
"The Casper Revolution" and the World War II
charity on a mind, the white window
When the street could be as good of the world
to the street & he said "I don't like the dead"
I want to get the morning and I wonder if I had to be a couple walked to the News
And the trees are strong at the window
police and the first space
white midnight burning bones
Her body and the Contempt of New York lovers
Not to Whitman in a homeless world
translatable works
Song of the Nation of the Dead.
And the first time I took a battered apartment
No comments:
Post a Comment