Who wrote that one's worst day
is never true until one has no more
days to spend or to squander?
You don't know, do you?
Be dogged if I do, Mick.
They sat on the wharf in the bay
with fishing poles in hand
red bobbers bobbing in the water-
A pewter gray sky overhead
and a dingy seagull circling
and bobbing for perch.
You know of course
that it all depends
on a white chicken
beside a red wheelbarrow
in the backyard?
I ain't a poet for nothing,
he said. Course I do!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Liked the style, very loose and conversational. Nice reference to Williams. You're quite a fan of him. Hope to see more, Colette