The greenness has no plans for defeat,
So close to the sea
While the blood is up
And the bees are exploring madly
Through the fumbling of words and feelings,
The fire hydrants wait
To exhume their bright
Pressures
For the forest fires of birthdays,
And the airplanes leave to win,
Panhandling to angels
And stealing so many pretty girls
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem