nothing
to
write.
the creek bed is dry.
the
sky
is
empty.
no thunder
and
lightning
to
announce
the
gathering
storm.
nothing.
nothing at all.
zilch.
zero.
i
feel
as
if
i
have
been
neutered.
(12-22-1979)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem