Listen to all of the chances that they keep to
Themselves:
Coming awakened each morning rows of unbroken chrysalis:
This is how the housewives live
House to house:
This is the princess sleeping as a mouse- the strange pigmentations
That the gods gave to them,
The rituals of the privileged laymen- To make love like
Banshees like murdered oysters cracked against the tidal lands
Of the sea:
How their men move like dance troops with axes, sucking the winds
Of the kisses straight up the blow holes of their solar plexus:
Girls who move with pretty books pressed up to their
Pretty bosoms in between their broken classes:
Girls who have fallen so very far only to land on their broken asses:
They stop for awhile and sun on the green,
And then they try to travel on, and to sit and think of all of the means
That their professors mean,
While down in the grottos of the super stygian night the cicadas take
Of their unnecessary shells and leave them on the rivers of trees,
All too happy to never have known all the pretty syllables,
And the harmless Disney Worlds into which these fine young ladies
Have grown.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This poem is really inspired. Very very good.