the fan dangled from
her listless hand
sworn to pen-benumbed secrecy....
as altarwash and pernodlian drippings swelled the bleariest of scudderwags
foment filled the requestrians.....
it was easier to climb the wind than to ride herd on the catafalques....
he'd seen it all before......vaulted every vulpine, made merry in the sealong girders.....felt the impalation of precambrian dourbugs......there were newer fields to flay..rickety bogs and clayful abstrainers.....on to them, then, with only a brief roll of the eyelet and a violet for the furze......
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem