of audacious bettor angels....
finding them in the front and by-lines....
they squawk and keen...
their wing men and women have plucked most allusions from them....
.leaving
obscurantists winnowing,
waving
what appears to be a mutually paramount bandera of a startling gray....
....boxes groan with the weight of conspicuous assumption...
.the cheap seats implode.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem