'...this carpet forlornly lost in the cosmos...' Rainer Maria Rilke
A new postmistress yet
again a disaster she
seems to be unable
to read to coordinate
for instance yesterday
two arrive for me in
two separate mailboxes
one in my neighbor's
I find one at my
door just now
when going to
the roof to shake
throw rugs
stringy now
rags mostly
doormat too
letter's there
in one old
boot
left
right
doesn't
matter
can't toss
either out
not yet
must remember
their miles
not yet
ready
for a last
winter
a heap
ready or not
I shake
the throws
over St. Marks
dust is blowing
sun's not high
just enough
little cloud
just
somewhere
beyond
between
buildings
morning glory's
already
opened
closed
an
accident
of
placement
its
indigo
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem