a scholar the flowerbed wondered
punctuating jagged holes of skylight
vacant wings bitter
sweetly
stinging decay and the absent misfortune
of time herself.
dug inside a sleepers eyes, in each body;
confession screens contaminating
every sign of waxing wire stars
to measure the wane
because itself could not gain
givings of time that set up delay
cosigning so kindly,
saintly and sweetly
like projection cries
that see very little,
and claw at the light.
It's head might die loud or quiet,
uncomfortable. Concede
to gulag flowerbeds and gardenheads.
Compatible beating and breaking
molting vocalists
stressed over comparison
and that makes them dream entirely.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem