Hard cut are the loins of fireworks:
Ripped right through the paper middle, thrown by
Paper boys
On their routs through the trailers in the trailer parks:
As loud as dogs to the rusting
Windows-
The joy into which they are thrown, a beating heart
Cast over the middle of an empty sea:
While buses wait in the turn arounds of school:
Little pinhole flowers grow,
And the super markets breathe- slow motions truths
And faults- peppers of sunlight and shade,
Make truancies with another boy who will
Soon separate from me into common manhood:
There they go,
As the lion’s yawning mouth is filled with silver grasshoppers;
As I pretend to be doing something good,
And the sun jumps over my little house in the middle of my
Little neighborhood.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem