A yak in the flax
holds my novel composure
My agenda vends with
molecular infatuation
A complete u-turn in my ersatz
like a pink horse
winding up broadcasting its gyrations
How rare the image of a narwhal twin!
Fido is free of such stellar consideration
Immersed in a liquid cob of equivocation
a yellow submarine furrows its cylinder
through the purple rain of movie chatter
no aloha to March’s equestrian ides
unhooked by Ellman’s fibular articulation
Where are the heroes to soak up
the spawning hearts of gold?
Who will wear the medals to honor these traces of places?
Who will be the Stossel to break the news
of unlucky family travelers?
There’s no idyllic dugout
to canoe all Roman ponderers through Aurelian waters.
- July 22,2008
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem