Recorded in the shadows of any habitat- trying to
Remember the superstitions of
Any high school-
And then all day long, a song that blisters
Without any wonder,
While they haven’t been getting along together
Anyway- for very long:
As the cold weather fronts blister
Over the halfhearted daycares and any other
Amusements of the tenements of
The trailer parks- and then it doesn’t have to listen
To any other song for a long while,
Anyways:
There is but this- while the sugarcane burns,
And the canoes float masterless-
This is what I told you, forever through the daydreams:
And this was all but the final reason before
The cicadas came out and danced in the armpits
Of the cypress,
Singing songs of metamorphosis to lose their skins:
This was just their song in parenthesis-
This is just how they’ve been excluding themselves,
Waiting for the illusive numbers of the
Pandhandlers to survive in spite of themselves
Struggling through the whatever elements of the
Bright sunshine:
This is what was left at the summit minus all of
The tourism:
This was just the pinkest round in the chambers
They sold to themselves while their skeletons were
Yet grinning while the dragons flew perpetually in
The undefeatable sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem