I guess there's
more to you than the
white dribble exclusively
on offer...
yet this is where
it terminates,
for it is sealed,
the insect like way
in which everything
is revealed,
a pale moon
defiling
a black moon
the idea of two
things eating one
another, is somehow
part of the mood!
digested
by the bare bones,
smeared in pearls,
dark hulk
behind the shadow
curtain rail...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem