defending doom....
warbled, trilled...nictated
in the face
of abysmal cheeriness.....
prepared for
wanton slaying and the reattachment of limbs....grafting of all sorts...
and
playing, frolicking
in toothsome rigor....reknighted before the dawning of the day....
still...
closer to a blood moon than to a fairy-ring.....
something
less gibbous shall intervene....
call out for a dragon's claw...
reshuffle..
..redeal...
..replay...
..resurrectify........on some plane of grace-giving susurrus......ripe with love...
barefoot and tingling.......
fjord-leaping, glowing barnacles...
and so many of them.....all with walk-around-in closets.....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
source material.....? ? go to bed.... NOW! !