“Forgetfulness” was a hand God should temporarily give her to guard under trees, for such huge garments lurk for saints who come to mess with the teleology of soil. But instead he planted a leg in her v-a, to walk the golden alley inside my laptop. She had to chew inside “enter”, or a huge wave would soak Sahara like last year. A small fly flew out my left eye as I was thinking of burning earrings. The smell of the oxygen around my boiling saliva was small but strong. Say, remembering of elephant mothering over silver corpses of crocodiles.
the future will show, these poems have not been placed in leniar time yet. Thanks, anyway.
u speak of is so finely and vividly..astonishing write!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
ya, you are right...your work is peculiar..ok, ...expect my presence always....naizz