Today we are looking in at the sons of Walt Whitman
And the torpedoes floating softly beyond the stained glass windows
Just on the other side of the hypocrisies of the church
That has sunken with the tears from the girl you abandoned:
Little girls filling you wine glasses,
Like soft feathers lost in the aloe: and I convinced you of these
Affections as your mother wept in the carport
Beside the car that was salmon- and the frogs sang that once were
Tadpoles, as the angels looked down from heaven
And everything turned into the vulpine darkness and consumed the
Orange trees by the fall of shadows.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.