a slap in the face of ignorance,
a small fire on a cold, cold night.
the brush in the artist's hand,
the hand that empties the litter box.
the gun that jams,
the coffee that boils.
the prayer of a small child,
answered in his mother's arms.
all i ask, and ever want to be...
forgotten form, formless remembered,
the box that holds the gift!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'the hand that empties the litter box' made me wonder. Do you have a cat?