Spitting into the ocean
hoping it would rise
Wrapped in the flag of tomorrow's retreat
the past and its minions reprise
One more straw on the hay pile
not worth a tinker's damn
Wishing and hoping with my last breath
to free the words
— I am
(Dreamsleep: March,2024)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem