52 trips around the sun
To come to this bone-chilled rainy September day
Dripping with water older than the sun
Absinthe and coffee before the world
Awakens to its chores
The earth breaths, I hear its breathing
Still street with no cars
Still trees with no sound
Radio sizzles and pops
Tornado dogs and babies come forth like Lazarus from the bricks
While I dance on the tree tops
Tai chi on the tendrils of morning mist
Light drips through
Dropping like silk webs from dream-spinning spiders
Weaving tears and voiceless whispers
Unsettled and anxious to move
Pushed somehow by unseen hands.
I have wrestled with these dreams and
Will not leave this grey morning
Without its blessing
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem