what i hear is a life
that does not rhyme
i write what i hear
to your chagrin
and then i draw the beauty
left of the chaos
upon the mounds of the
earth
upon the sands of the
desert
you must see what we
have not seen
you must start to hear
the beauty of a slur
these are real and
these are all of us.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem