Some thing
makes me quiet
and draws me
deep in the dark.
Plato’s cave, kills the
Shiver in my
Slow existence.
My words unite
They give me chained claws
In which I can
Whisper the words
Numbly…
Non-existence is unintelligible
On my thick tongue
So is the croak of
God burning in the embers
A nameless less spirit
Conceivably inconceivable
Just enough to touch
With hypothetical
Taste
Of a mishmash
Clump assumption
Guided by a spine
Of chained friends
With holes in their heads.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem