and lacking the cohesion of water or space
are we made into years
the ultimatum of purpose,
like all sharpened edges,
began arbitrarily in some other place
less presuming (or of more vague intent)
ergo sum
dispersed outward toward the dragged void
more vapid in its ascent than dreams would let on: these thoughts
betrayed in the same fashion
as the eves of our rejuvenation sit in council with the inexorable
splayed
we are mandatorily gone
dismissed, by a softly weeping magic,
as illusion
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem