Temper your muse
If you care to produce
Any real line of prose
Or heavenly verse -
Verses packed, side by side,
In long glass tubes
Filled with formaldehyde
And cotton gauze packed tight.
It sets it, you know,
That yellow-brown gunk
From promises sweet to
Stiff man cures.
My promises are nothing
But ashes and smoke-
Even the alcohol turns
Brown, drunk down twice.
Lay down my friend,
To finger my robe.
I’ll open a jar and
Let you inhale them first.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem