Surpassing a life of poverty and depravation, writing
like no one else in this world, living in realms of
music, filtering lifelines with it's rhythms.
Lightening fast, not waiting for anything or anyone
to get focused or stand in lines of inspiration, only
tickling inner fantasies with prose.
Posing in measures of time, keeping staccato beats with
beauty and florescent brevity coming from an interior
musical ability.
Nothing being abbreviated in interiorly, just being dis-
played in pages of poetry that I'm now writing while
listening to music.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem