COLLECTED secrets with rubies,
and belly-up laughs, a hero sits
with a carrot in his mouth, and
a street light in his eyes.
COLLECTED secrets with lip me
fatigue, and graffiti on his arms,
and a wild choking, swollen thing,
fighting in his hands,
and he capsizes to the floor,
and he cutz in a strait line,
and wind says f ck, lets go the
other way.
Swing Away then, my friend...'Tis dreams that make the surreal, a real work of art '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''FJR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
That was some mood swing, my friend! Agree with FJR....