My foil sands
are sad trails
that i know from watching the thickening silver of morn
the starry handbasket
woven with yellow hay
is making molecules in
the sky
your eye
a torpid jewel as if one in space
and zero in you and seven to a calander week
II
Tomb waste
like silly glitters
of stargleam
like puddles of melted moon on a
meteor spring
herds of eggshell comets
dissolve
like youve never seen an eye built with teal laserbeams
run from me!
it will help you
fit in
with all of them you knew
III
terrycloth orchid
willow cheer
for you have swallowed a green diamond
and now you are a yellow receipt
worth a world and a
physicality
a crystal
your picture
a black moss machine
slovenly marching
to a dumb cross
in a valley of marigold
IV
you dont know my friend, the shadow;
he can stand after the sun has charred him alive
he dances and smolders in the burning sand
wrapped in precious leaves
i asked a hundred trees
for three thousand suggestions
V
My boat of stone
is your favorite joke
you wrote it yourself
with a preferred omnipotence
QUILL OF GOD
like a comet to your head
spangle me with dreamish yearning
kisses that bloom spiders at their sights
A black firework on my face? ? ?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem