Unintentional movement
that flows down from the
inside, until we cling
to wisps of extra curricular
nothings,
while holding zero
inside a pretend hand,
you don't have the right
mind, and the time of day
has already spotted you
running...
throw us back
said the ugly
fish, to eternity!
as far as it will
stretch or go,
a spray, a blob, or word,
our vents always troubled,
so much attempts
to swim between so many
legs,
and yet so wet & easy,
if not for all the tacks
and leather backs,
devices that flower
out of a hole,
and the strap of your
childhood, adulthood,
sapping old heart
of revisions,
in-de-in-de-in-de!
cisions,
enigmatic drool!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem