the subject matter is not new
& not the sorrow
old as the first cave
bearing first fire in
human hand the
expiring artist torn
from blank sky to
an expectant wall
a herd there
a declaration -
one day we too will
fill the earth as
hooves have done
capture sun & be
doneover/overdone
& so come to such
an edge of ruin
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem