my techinical response to the uneven landscape
is to waterdown my footprints.
so i sink as i step and grow a little stronger.
so heavy these great big thoughts.
i must move quickly, no time for darwins hardbound books.
no time to trace my five toed footprint and wait for my fossil
to turn beatiful or grotesque.
i've seen them you know the figures of the figurative figures,
they walk around in books without bread or water.
nourished by deaths constant response.
this place is so dry i think i might leave it.
i read once a line
' oh little clouds filled with great rain,
fall in dry places.'
i think that is a wonder beyond reason.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is an astonishingly great poem- a classic if you will put it out there and publish it.