for the Postmoderns
Listen:
Gladly I glisten,
I'm greedy to whisper:
Some how Some where
there's another nest
as I hear woodpeckers
conjugate my eaves
Some how Some where
I hear the woodpeckers
Gladly conjugate
in another nest.
My eaves glisten,
I whisper ever so gladly.
At one age broken-hearted,
now I wager
it's where I started,
where, broken-hearted,
at my age now, I wager,
too unwieldly to conjugate.
My verb is thrust
your noun is tundra.
Everything else is floribunda.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem