Ferris-wheels of diamond mice run
Around the salty pan,
Laughing men as tall as houses
Fold themselves in the squealing wind,
Ginsberg is back in the mutinous queue,
Toting lead for the Adonis biscuit,
While harems of uncommitted tumbleweeds
Flaunt in a species of cartwheels,
Slowly, slowly then she sees us,
Feeding her the alphabet soup of our wanderlust
Served up from the dregs of an abandoned high school’s
Knickknacked Library,
So she nods Atlantian, and goes back to bed in
His crook, drooling a species of mollusk distended from
Her hyperventilating womb.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem