My son, whose eyes captured stars
And held them like silver fish
In a net of thoughts, whose mind
Spread like a hungry mist that
Swallowed up all things to hold them
In contemplated delineation,
In delight and respect for their individuality,
And plurality of their relationships,
Is now himself a dissipation of molecules,
A structure in my memory to float
And interpenetrate throughout
The insubstantial glistenings
Which my knowingness manufactures
To perceive the world.
My ache of emptiness at his absence
Sends beaming pain explosions
Through each moment as I exist
Without him.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem