Woke up this morning like James
Bomb; like a Blues song gone wrong.
Dismantled my socks to stitch
the hole in my knees. I kept
losing the thread. Stepping to sink –
my glass isn’t there to fill.
My glass is… where is my glass?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I really like this poem. It reminds me a little bit of beat poetry. Good job :)