I've seen a wreck outside my door—
In the highway, confused by green smoke,
Old friends
And past muses—
What did it look like but a broken kaleidoscope
Amidst the skree—
The sailors of other planets were coming
Down upon,
Either like vultures or
Like doves—
Beauties of their avoided delusions—
And things that learned how to
Travel without minds—
Bodies moving into their preordained
Beds, into their preordained loves—
As above them,
The airplanes roared like wildfires,
Like waterfalls of angels,
Like ecstatic words that never found
Their way into those minds.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem