The image in the camera is the eye
Of the circus.
A meal found at the Fairway at the Cape;
Asparagus, pointing the same direction.
Footprints go off near the knowing of a name.
The ocean measures thyme jumping, filled with salt,
Salted on a steak.
The mitten and circles on a wonder bread hand.
What of squares of sand, pasta and the past.
Like a salad with nothing to do but color my world, green and red.
We color the table cloth with crayon like children.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem