yesterday,
being the push of another 365 fiasco,
was the saturday of lost identity.
football's answer to perpetual motion.
Resolved:
i will save the human race whenever called upon to do so
Dissolved:
joy in salted boiling wax.
and Eve's oliveless martini.
hoping for a year of love, spontaneously planned.
cuddled in dream's curve
and specially joying because of dateless sorrows.
the year of the holiday.
of the new easter
and time off from time.
the year signed by a candle.
of an old promise suddenly sincere
in this sun circling,
the moon street paved on my lake
is walkable
and i am readable
(January 2,1966)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem