You like boxes
where your ideas
take shape
you like air
to be contained
in the shape of
a balloon
water in the shape
of a bottle
i have ideas as birds
flying in the air
as bullets hitting no
bird
but songs seducing
the moon
tempting the stars
to be meteors
again merely passing
by
to put in flames our
dry woods without the
fire of
wanton imaginations.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem