Starting this afternoon at the very moment it has become,
taking it's place upon the clock of immeasurable time
here in this poetry journal.
Delicate, fresh, new, not yet being imposed upon by anyone's
agendas or lists to do, just beginning, waiting for what-
ever will be, all in it's momentary stance in the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem