by windsprung visions
inhabiting an acolouthic domain....
strayling, in a divertimento
divested of architonics...
bisons at a watering hole,
their young, their very young,
left for those moments,
hidden, shivering in an abietic protectorate...
buried, consigned
to an entombment
where
time and season hold no sway....
....in this lawless and random plot of alopecoid whims,
each avocado stone consents to be interred.....
though
no dianoetic process as we presume to know it applies....
there
is only the gently startling joy of surprise..........
now back to the vodka-laced pie dough
.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
so... is it the comedienne as the letter C or the letter A....? ? .....who knows.... '>)