this is the trip of boredom.
it starts from the tip of my toe
as a ripple of a clear pond
from a fish that just
died of suffocation
too much water less air
the fish dies too
then it crawls like a worm
higher to my arm
near my neck
and then it moves down
to my chest finding
a heart
long dead.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem