from 'While Passing Through'/Summer
She graces his barren yard
with a Mexican Bird of Paradise.
He squirts its sprout
with herbicide.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Or alternatively, The Nature of Man.
of course not all of us. but in this i see an example of how out-of-touch with nature we can be, nature which can so enrich and lift us, nature on which we so much depend—even if we don't realize it. don't know that i depend on it, but i have yet to get tired of people reading and affirming my poems. thank you! -glen