Ooze
This breath is a drag
Like opium from an Afghan stall
Like funnels rigged into blacksmiths' bellows
Sniffed so much, even filled my marrows
Eyes popped out
Pull me by the brows
I squint for rain
But the world is drained
Of pleasures and joys
The sky tells of your ploys
Of horrows and arrows
laid with syringes
each point a venom
And you watch
Gleeing on your hammock
This breath is a drag
Lord, what is my blight
That you make my breath
My plight?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem