Consciousness hard and cold and sharp
and all bunched up, determined to keep
my concentration, my brain was shivering
in a spasm, the world rippled, the dungeon
dimensions opened into our universe
Douglas Adam’s couch appeared through
a rift in this reality, I could not sit still, could
not read or listen to music, could not type
words or understand, ran and ran, until
the mind invasion was over
I can sit still and type again, the restoration
started with a ghoul saying ugh, eating a fish
finger and saying yuck, seeking in dustbins for
red, unspeakable things; my mind came to
rest as it contemplated a kind genie
Hiding in a bottle from the cold; a devilish enchant-
ress with a necklace of human teeth, blighting and
smiting in a most sinister way while the ogre kept
looking for a sword to swallow and a typewriter
changed into a nest of vipers…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem