A leach on a statue, and small cups
of red, and purple wine, a slippery hand
enters, and spreads some darkness on
that well oiled sundial.
A whistle drifts on the wet earth, and
the medicine finds the spot, another
hand shoots itself out, and takes hold
of the mud, then putz it in a safe box.
DAVID YOU CAN ON THE MOST ODD OCCASION HIT ME WITH ONE OF YOUR THINKING POEMS, THIS MUST BE ONE YOUR MIND WORKS IN STRANGE WAYS DAVID AND LIKE ME I THINK YOU BEG TO BE DIFFERENT WELL DONE WARM REGARDS AJS
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Deep thought, perplexed but well done with imagery.