Sentimental journey as days become much richer.
The hip-hop in steps dance with lost shadows.
The bricks are much harder to swallow or pass.
Gone are pages from empty books
that have not yet been written and will never beome written.
The derby is over, the winner dropped dead.
A vein from a vine with a spine curves
with time and everything becomes larger to the fading while
they continue to sing. “When the music is over, no one will wait.”
Cartoon Days
Child sitting on a barber’s chair with
the elevator music humming and dry suckers waiting to get wet.
Old man set in slow motion, eating speeding film, washing it down with very cheap gin, waving his dead grandfather's sissors.
Child squirms as barber continues to clip yesterday's hair and the child waits for the cartoons on television to take him away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem