BLACK box spinning, toiling in your
head, struggle, focuse, before the
fat king forfeits your bed.
HOARD your laughter, give the pay
off to a saint, learn to vision, like
a artist lost at sea, .
BLACK box spinning, toiling in your
head.........
Why is it that sometimes your poems are so interesting they almost seem dizzying? Such a feeling of being out of control with this one. Great work David. Sincerely, Mary
David.....The Abstracts that unfold in your work are of a muse to follow...The process of unfolding them, however, may be an impossibility as only you are in your own dreams...but the outcome, as you consistently exhibit, is most unique & inquiring...'''''''''''''''''''''''''frank
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
thank god its black not blank...coz you can work on the black to add colour...but a blank on...you got nothing to work on...deep thought...great read...nalini