By daylight,
we reconcile the numbers,
or smelling of grease,
turn burgers
in the early afternoon,
Or peddle life insurance
in air conditioned spaces.
But at night,
our souls wander.
Deep woods summon us
forth from wooden houses.
We gather unashamed
and naked by open fires,
Beating drums and chanting-
We dream of stone gods.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like this.. it's my world too - expressed/described more convincingly, poetically and perceptively than I could. Saw your comment on Angie's Garden Logic and thought there was a mind behind it. There is. Thanks, jim