do you wax or shave....
or did you forget all about this beautiful job.....all of it....at once.? ?
cause....you look like a house of wax.....
with my hand
I can
feel
the heat....
cracks, melting down, ....lava....down...pressure down...
my nose are
ahead....
is following
the fire....and the smoke.....of the burned....house....
ho babi! .....it is going to the dry woods....and your favorite prairies....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem