The fan is buzzing with fuzzy
time and white space
and the electricity of tension
dry and barren with angst
reaches out for anything to quench
the thirst,
yet water,
another bottle of five seed
just adds to the headache.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
White Scene Interesting Write, Marie, I read all three Scenarios, and I really Love this one. White...blinding light, cause for headache, especially wrapped in the memories... the echos of him. Great Ink Marie! -Kelly.