but the rungs required flight.....
from...and with
random herds...
and they're here...and they bellow....
.stretch their legs in that murky-tone river....
where all of the toes can still be seen.
..by the overfliers...
and the underlopers.....
never mind the technoblimps......they're hard wired and soft cored..
.spill seed on the wing.....exchange memories with any and every chanteuse whose matchboxes glitter.......but that's the way of it....on the strand.....
I'll take the wheels...and the hell with it.....I can paint a new one..... and...and.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem