days go by
when I lose hold of wonder
when last night's quarrel
or fresh reported slaughters
shove and push for my attention
crowd out the lions and holy fools
but they come back
and I'm ambushed by
bluesy words
jazz-dancing down the syncopated page
fragile stars
frozen lace on winter windowpanes
a revel of nasturtiums
oranges scarlets yellows
reflected in a shining copper pot
the whole damn glorious dazzle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem