Suddenly my cliffs arise with the necessity for
Breaking the sound barriers,
While the cars park and stare, and the wine I have
Been drinking is from the deserts of Spain,
And filled with tannins, but I don’t care:
When I am done drinking I will light out of my house,
Light out of here,
And I will jog straight across the intercostals of her bridges
Where the rich men continue to endear,
And I will think of you, Alma, while I look up at the soft
Underbellies of airplanes,
Who continue their leaping, who seem to be so unreal:
They seem to be leaping right over the walls of Christmas,
Which might as well be your favorite holiday,
Because you told me today- and decided as well that the
Tiger was your favorite of all the animals in their
Plush and soft kingdoms.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem