tonight
he will read many poems
and he cannot sleep because as always there will be many poems from me. he asked for them anyway. and everything i have in my mind
will always be poems.
the editor is an insomniac.
and from the hundred that i emailed for his perusal.
i guess. i need only to see one
that he thinks deserves
his choice.
i laugh. how can he ever find that piece of little garbage
as art form?
funny. dear editor, everything is a fake.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem