(After Poet, Goes On An Nocturnal Ramble- Monday March 31)
My feet are FUNKY
but anything _not_ fresh;
couple of spots where the corns
done soaked in cold rain,
then sweated all day as I continued
perambulations,
look like chillblains
or some weird albino mildew
might have set in & festered.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem