the wings off anything.....
Peter and Jane sit.... are sworn to gentrified and cruel-less beauty...
fur below and fur above....
the warriors of the sunbows, spry and toneful,
have made their concubinary prescience felt....
all harpoons have been disrupted...
sent to the shallow's soundings....
for lark's tongues
would I take up arms,
legs, fins, scales, pelts....
and in so doing
rend them auspicious?
would you?
my boots are leather....
do you milk a rubber tree?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Love D. of course I'd milk a rubber tree, don't pull no legs with me when there are sappy trunks around .... hugs within the aroha,