I have accomplished splitting in two,
I have to turn my head and look from
various ‘viewpoints’ in order to focus,
from each spot I see a different view,
they are all valid even if some are skew,
I’m like that bull described by Pratchett
Who thought he was two and turned his
head so each bull got a chance to look
from one eye; that’s me nowadays
I swivel my head all the time to get
perspective on letters who insist on
jumping about; the Troll Interpol sent
Such a nasty-looking document I cannot
read without gyrating my head from side
to side, another proof for my conspiracy
theory: evil forces out there is driving me
insane…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I'll send you some superglue so long as you promise not to stick your fingers together with it (as I would) because we need you to continue with your wonderfully engaging penning. t x