Beds of chalked zinc
webbed by bleats of beauty
the alchemy of pop-art and Lysergic Visine-tears
wheels of triad shapes
her mouth is a gaping universe
smogged with the hanging, perfumed fog of lust
feast of freedom and dusts of dried lymph
let the odorless veil of space encapsulate itself into my stifkled teardrop
rendered blacklight ghosts kiss
glass planets on T.V.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem