put out the moon
reach up, clasp it
press its ends closed upon themselves
wrap this ring in fallen leaves
choose leaves still supple
not tired and crumbled
choose as carefully as the comforter
wrapping you or
the lover beside you,
tell each other stories
as if words were constant suns
not moons waxing with desire
Now this is truly a poem. It moves from the unconscious outward and contains crisp visual images. Every word is relevant and works to create a singular effect. Bravo!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the lover beside you, tell each other stories as if words were constant suns not moons waxing with desire spot of poems are sleeping..... in a small pond with sunny flowers