Fallen dirty drunk onto a Greyhound bus,
a traveler stares into the conch shell
of a winter night and is is taken into
the hands of the deaf moon.
The bus reflects in the Mississippi River,
shimmers on the surface of the water
like a Huron bride raiding party.
My high school in that town i'm leaving:
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem