Wisdom is the law having two Mistresses
Blindly seeking both.
I cannot keep one in truth, hearing both lie.
My eye on the morrow's words hands tied
in rule, since time never changed.
Before me, some times I punish the one as
beside us one could have been
yet knowing
change blows the wind..fiercely.
I walk the shore line of a morning, to know
wisdom is as the sand, unwashed always clean.
The rock I sit on holds my face, deluded was he
who painted your father, on the ceiling, never looking
up, all stand on thier backs..in awe.......crying.....the
star stopped, buoyed in your bayou, teaching pie.
Humble though he was his gravity motions me down
inside you to lite a path you know is strait..
As you flip me over, you put me to rest, in a steaming
pot, judged...by crawdaddy's graduates in claw..........
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'I walk the shore line of a morning, to know wisdom is as the sand, unwashed always clean.' - nice sir