I have to say
I don't rewrite but might replay
I throw my poems as seeds
to sturdy readers, deeds
and while I twirl
a magic whirl
including my mistakes
if one shell breaks
some shall find a pearl
a luminous illness
or some might find
a pebble black as night
which makes a see-er blind
I'd rather be food for the world
than trying to be too good
resenting perfection
as an ugly thing
hell, I'll rather crawl back
into my shredded shell. M
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem