But a tree has
a long suffering shapeIs
spread in half
by 2 limbed fate
Rises from gray rain
pavements
To traffic in the bleak
brown air
Of cities radar television
nameless dumb &numb mis connicumb
Throwing twigs the
color of ink To white souled
heaven, with
A reality of its own uses
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
nameless dumb &numb mis connicumb// beautiful rhythm