she was so into the only
moment (being every single one)
that it did not surprise me
Human nature, is repetition
of profound instance
but to what scale? what model
formed the mold? what action absolute?
Keen was every thought pertaining to
that group of characters, that to me
was a moniker for motion.
the attention to detail in the abstract
was the polar opposite to the whimsey
of a rowing motion, in the sea, on a boat
far from land.
While I set off with targeted sight
she reminded me, I needed to wash
my hands
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem