it is only when
i am far away
beyond the reach of
this civilization
that for a
little while
i quit
writing because it is this
distance
that keeps me
sane
it is the nearness
of all these
little things around me
that keeps
my hands moving
cultivating a garden of
words
to hide
the weeds
to please what has
been
creating havoc
in that warring
hole of
my empty being
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem