Nothing worth noting
except an Andromeda
with quadrangular shoots—
the boots
of the people
wet inside: they must swim
to church thru the floods
or be taxed—the blossoms
from the bosoms
of the leaves
*
Fog-thick morning—
I see only
where I now walk. I carry
my clarity
with me.
*
Hear
where her snow-grave is
the You
ah you
of mourning doves
'' Fog-thick morning— I see only where I now walk. I carry my clarity with me. '' it can stand alone, carrying a poignant inner thruth
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Fog-thick morning— I see only where I now walk. I carry my clarity with me. - - - -It is awesome when a writer can pen something that stirs your imagination