Twilight Of The Gods Poem by Stephen Brian Brady
Twilight Of The Gods
At the end of the line
there's a swinging door
where short-wave radio won't reach
there's a waiting-room
and a rancid spoon
in a bowl of furred-up peach
there's a verandah
and a sleeping -car
and sand's blown-up from the beach
there's curtains
and the soft-pad paws
of a mutt and a steel guitar
and the little god from tumbleweed
plays chords
as loose as straw
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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8/29/2026 10:13:55 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
Brady its nice poem but can you explain, don't ignore plz