my appetite is wet....
I have cornflakes in my shoe....
of Corgi breath and Bissel tracks
and laminated promulgated measured steps I've few....
in the opalinest reservoir
of undertoads and caviar....
flies long-since blown the nearest bar
where marmorauders carp and flounder
whip rejoinders, crown the rounder...
count confessions in an old nightjar....
meet fern-fed brinewaifs in the stacks...
blush and chatter in Ward Two.....
a night I won't forget.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem