Today after frothing, sizzling & boiling over my brain
is thoroughly cooked and my head smoking with the
concentration; then a visual feat reading dense text
with double vision, ears ringing with tinnitus - arms
aglow with heat, with four or five words describing
One English verb, fuzzy and woolly trying to inspire
the old palate: I'm spent - even NatGeoWild is too
much - except at six when the hopping crocodile of
Oz is about to be on, can't wait to tell my Oz brother
again there IS a reptile that hops from one dry pond
To the next - but right now I'm trying to make sense
of a world in which I misspent my youth searching
for truth instead of the excellence that would make
me a great translator knowing exactly where the
verb should be in a sentence…
[6 November 2014]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem