is to be a recognizer.....awestruck.....and wagtailed.....
to breathe it in.. and blow..
(.I do know how to whistle...)
and that's the bit that sometimes chokes the chortlehorse.....
with a beaded stiletto..... a wordflung candle...
.unstrung..
.strung up..
and
..flippin' like a fresh hide in a wind tunnel.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem