America is one great &
jaded lake.
Pulse: a poorly tuned guitar, while love
is thick. Slow smoke.
Good feeling, you breathe
in the knobbiness of
knees.
Hush recalls the braiding
of daisies – sweetness, you wear
a diadem of flowers.
Liquor goes quicker, and who knows
what music sings in
undiscovered places.
The yawning v’s of geese.
Some long hair waves goodbye
to the mistress Wind.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem