Spending so much time
Going home to hide—to stare out of the jaded zoetrope
Of the window
At the housewives returning home—spinning in
Cadaverous fits—legs turning on and off—
Like the jubilescent
Lights of any fun-time Ferris Wheel—
While the sea-clouds blew across the finest strands of
Land—and puffed themselves across the armpits
Of the mermaids,
As the peacocks laid down to roost with the conquistadors—
Into a silent blow- job—
As the trees held their crooks up to the moon
Who turned them in
Until they turned silver and played themselves over and over
Again in the wishing well of a movie theatre—
Like at any lunch room in any high school—
Lonely, silent kids looking off into the Scandinavian bone structures—
Counting off all that they could for themselves—
While the werewolves hunted underneath the moon
And over-ripened orchards -
And the marionettes plucked themselves from the violin's
Vineyard—
And life was discovered on Ganymede and Europa at the same time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem