Still Bad Poetry Ii Poem by Desmond Kon
Still Bad Poetry Ii
just deleted an isthmus
out of fear, sheer fear;
this, the culture of fear
and what it does, burns
to the voice, its irons
sharon olds, if only
i had your i, pyre fire
unpacking, welling sounds;
take me there gilded
and august, waves
Author's note:
This poem's forerunner, 'Still Bad Poetry', was anthologized in 2004. This poem appears here for the first time.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/16/2024 6:33:05 AM # 1.0.0.1119
