I like to get drunk and play the keys
let it be the old eighty eight damper box
or Remington ink blotter
I have traveled through the brush
to a pagoda out of this world
the keys are left in the lock and fancy free
and I got my pulpit of beer some full notes
some sour, all notes thrown at the walls
all notes float in my ear.
some notes have grown fur
and some notes have not been written yet
The mongolia pedals.
The Magnolia petals pollinated by beetles, under pagoda vibrating sky chased clouds.
my fingers trace a rainbow from the cracked sharp to the bottomless flat
and i always wake up with music in my head.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem