Then there was a pretty boy on his
Bicycle
Like a tool, Siamese of glowing pinwheels
And the spots in between
The trees
A zoetrope, a glowing lantern—
A house of bees:
You know what it is, or at least meant to me:
As I followed you,
As you were going to feed the loins
An entire bouquet
From the games of your heart.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem