Walking Poem

WALKING POEM

You say the narrative is the armory,
but this is another cheesy scam

like history.

What matters is a great phrase
with claws

like a reptilian bird, between species?

Translatable.

"Only what is translatable matters?"

I don't know.

Your god is the opposite of poetry,
which I find funny,

my love, my poet.

"I'd like a winter dozen of those,"
I say, pointing.

I don't want you to see me.

Not doing this.

I have already stepped out
the poem we were both
momentarily inhabiting

although you will notice

I continue

walking beside you.





O BEAUTIFUL WORLD


Untranslated

and forever impenitent.











POEM AS SPIDERWEB WITH A STAR
WHERE A DROP OF MOISTURE BEADS IT


I think we can agree

translation is the singular,

radiant fact

of the untranslatable thing

made ridiculous,

ridonkulous, saintly




Pretend center


which clearly isn't.