all said in title.....
....(.feels pretty damn good.....)
having ventured outside the comfortable boundaries...no longer contained in a country of less-than -exquisitely-formed sight....a place where one color reigned....and was thought to be owned.......polished daily.....
....(and rather safe it was....)
though
it stultified, dulled and dimmed the senses.....
had too long cradled,
(lulled to fitful sleep)
certain sorts of braveries.....
conjoined....cosseted....
lacking lubrication.....
so many births....so many......
guessing just where to tiptoe...
where to pounce...
.or
to just to lie back and drink it in...a sip here...a gulp there.......
being master/mistress..... of nothing........
an uncommon joy.....breathing...........
and delighting in this foolishness.....well revealed.....
do the broken illusions need replacement....and with what?
this is beauty......
and what forms it takes
are as irrelevant...
and relevant...
.as
brushing
flecks of loam from a mushroom's cap....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem