Poemas

He thought he kept the universe alone;

There's a patch of old snow in a corner

The witch that came (the withered hag)

The house had gone to bring again

Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day,

Out through the fields and the woods

I'm going out to clean the pasture spring;

Gods of Poker

Love just knocked the door.

Back out of all this now too much for us,

The land was ours before we were the land’s.