I'm not shutting
down right yet,
noise of my desk top
despite the command,
because i know
and you know...
what you tried
to say,
but didn't quite
do it,
and won't
if you don't
sketch a picture
directly as it comes
to you,
therefore
in the dark living
room, just now,
with the birds
twittering outside,
after showering,
and the towel
stank a little
bit,
and I walked
back in
picked up Hank,
and saw therein,
more of the good
original stuff
that life is made
up of,
and write this,
with a more realistic
edge,
because real life
is lived,
just like it is...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem