the morning after heavy drinking
last night's liquor
straps me to my whirling bed
and makes me wear
a stethoscope
that was lying in a gutter
amidst all nervous traffic & bus stop conversation
the garbage truck always comes
crashing down the street
and the ice cream man always
stops outside my window
like the morbid punchline to
some divine joke
Your dying amidst the bustling life outside. I like this one Hassler
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like the imagery in this one. It's simple yet still quite powerfully expression particularly to those of us who have had a hangover or five.