threw down the pen
went under the knife
nice to speak to you again
after summer's last furnace blast
grabbed my running hat
figuring it had been too long
with autumn's breezes
a soothing sigh
a sitting duck I'd become
for a pretzel gut
with pockets for the seedy
so I had become
so the Aasics hit the floor
marched out the door
not knowing if they
could be run any more
well in truth it was slow
but the ship wreck was
now tilted up
you can partner with the divine
or simply run out of time
as an accomplice
in Hades crime
the devil's entropy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem