With a touch of furrowed brow
an idle hand wipes the sweat off
and I just reluctantly channeled Hunter S.
with drooping cigarette
pooping chinchilla-body ashes
onto wildly literate fingertips
and keyboard clicking a fever-pitch
fervent
verb sonata
all action
who has time for nouns?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem