The wind scolds madmen frankly,
Time is father to the man
And the mother of his children is hiding in the brush—
I have seen your daughters
Choking on ether in the lab,
Coughing up blood in the hallways,
Pristine and virginal like the womb
Wearing high heels and laughing at what the milkman sings—
Beginning with sorrow,
He goes from room to room
Chasing his lunatic grandmother,
A nymphomaniac wearing her best jewels—
I’ve only seen her shadow
In the darkened halls at night
Walking toward the room with the black door
And curtains drawn on the light
At the window the spiders are the size of cars—
Their webs like steel cables
Entranced by her ghostly form,
Just because she is the father’s lover
Her son hates her in anger,
Yet in a manger she lies with a moonchild
Who has nothing to bring to his father’s party
Except his own life—
I put a stranger in your coffin
And eat your rotten eggs
And get home sick for the freshly made home fries
That you smuggled in your shopping bag
I was hungry and it made me mad—
So late the cherished soul
And took her cherry and christened her with farewell,
A new life enters the world and flies out the window
A bat with golden wings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem