....but we must build as if the sand were stone. - Jorge Luis Borges
Ok Low of the slow and steady
(enough) , the roughened edges
of persistence and desire, dimming
fires fleshed, dipping toes or more
refresh of desert pools oddly found
in vast urbanity where they drip drip
while most, craven, speed to ought
and nought, bought of course at costs
beyond calculation in terms a nostalgia
once called soul.
...In the middle of a Tibetan Buddhist
phase, dinner's done, dishes too so
shall return to perhaps was-a past-life
or not but love the Buddhist plot but
they are so so sure of themselves and
I am not, not ever, not of what so many
of so many variations on a religious
theme are convinced of so I drift, even
marinade a bit, in their assure-ities,
a contact resonance that touches but
does not at all convince Nature in me
who so begs for us, at least the human
of Her creations, to bake Her a cake
otherwise that reveals that there is
more to Her than even She surmises.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem