All the joints and fluid in them. All the bones. We named them. All the names. Insufficient in a language that separates. All the separations inadequate to describe the movement of dancing. All the steps split up into names. Rocks split up into names. The click of two rocks then they touch. The pillow a body resembles on a hot rock. The feel of a hot rock is not hard, a rock is hard, a body on a hot rock is neither a rock nor a body. A rock rocking on a rock in a hot sun between a rock and a body is not, water between rock between two rocks between the skin and the fabric is a body. Hot sun on a body on a hot rock is sun, is soft, is a body, is day, is time, is several birds playing. Sun on a hot rock makes the rock hotter. Foot on a hot rock makes the foot hotter. Sun on a rock on a river around a body is a soft, soft thing. Sun on a body on a rock on a river is a soft soft then a stumbling thing needing to move. A rock on its own in the sun is not on its own. No things are on their own. There are no things. No rocks, no bodies, no sun. There is a sun, there is a soft place, there is a soft wet place. It is under the stars, also it is of the stars, also it is above them, inside and above them. A hot rock a star an exploding sun, a wet body between cloth between rocks is drying. A wet body on a dry rock is a hot wet body drying. I feel like a wet seed wild in the ground. That seed that found ground. That seed that fell into hot ground. That seed in a slit. That seed tucked into a slit, split seed opened by moisture by earth by a sense of staying, by an urgency most solid. That seed most solid most splitting most mapped out splitting.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem