Overbearing to the next steps of
The millennium—
Overbearing until the next steps have come
And we, both have new, warm hearts
In the independent séances leading
Towards the highlights of our
Endeavors—until, finally now—
We have to step in line and look
Beautiful, or relatively beautiful
While dying—
And the sun becomes a master key over
The whole lot of the affair—
If approaching the middling séances
‘I don’t want to become lost again,
Then just what then Is the
Answer to get out of here—
In truth, the cemetaries have no answers
But once again beautiful pictures
and the same way as the old way
To get out of here:
Beautiful memories disguised
In a zoetrope, dancing with themselves,
just so they won’t be eaten in the pizzas
Of the zeotropes of a brand new midnight—
And that is about it, anyways—
At least from the fictional monuments where
I at least pretend to survive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem