you've found ways to call out the names of the unamable...
in whispers
and
in screeches,
to ready ears
and
to less-prepared
and
recklessly unmoored stations
hand to hand
and
mouth to mouth....
to swallow cicadas whole
and
to brew an infusion of hen's teeth....
this
while the night wind
asks nothing more of you than two scoops of orange sherbert.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem