can't anchor us,
slipstreams be dammed....
ornaments
the sighs of
saint dreben's wort.....
shots fired at messengers...
a stringer of popped cairns...
a hoary muffin.....
a rightful air....
an estuarian worrier...newly fretless....
all
have
made contiguous attempts...........
the hoary muffin tasted pretty good...
......better
than
chocolate-covered
carrot Styx
to the ribs
... which leave
most aforeisms
more
wet
than crisp.....
so don't tell anyone anything....
.....some may guess...some may gather.......
.....but you won't have to start missing them.......
or losing them.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem