The house collapsed and I was crushed under the rubble,
pulverized, but here I am,
walking around as if I were alive —
with an oxeye daisy in my buttonhole,
the bitter voluptuary, never satisfied,
the three-legged dog,
the giant under the tiny parasol at
the only Abyssinian in the choir of the
Abyssinian Baptist Church.
(Somebody must have done a self-portrait of me.)
Just amazing. I think I could wrap my arms all the way around
the 24,901-miles-circumferenced Earth.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.