Waiting for memories to collect themselves in bluened
lights, hoping to be brought forward into poetry.
Giving them their due, inviting all types into
situations and circumstances that I can write from.
Pondering and thinking beyond normal scopes of rhythm,
penetrating boundaries.
Taking walks into interior gardens where intellect
sits waiting to blend them all with rhythms given by
my soul for just that purpose in life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem