(i)
The slow and paced tick-tock
of winking moments
swell into a soft glow burning
a shrinking breaking sun,
as waving silver rays pierce
trees in their thousand green hands
of umbrella and palm branches
dimming into late afternoon,
waves of dust tilting into
swollen-headed shrubs.
(ii)
Even heavy roots of tall trees
crawl into themselves
by grasses swaying slender necks
in a coquettish dance
cutting off the legs of fleeing birds
in a wheeled screeching breeze.
Spirals of beige in the windy air
stride and kick off mist
and powder for more room
in a pulled-out corridor of light
on jumping racing legs.
(iii)
Higher silver skies
have danced to the beat
of drumming
shifting leather lids
of lower wallowing
ceilings hanging on growing trees,
dark and emerald shades
curving themselves out
into quivering heavy-hipped
dinosaurs of cotton and beige
float and duck winds
with a bow, as they're thawed
out of sight by brisk arms
of a sun punching through sheets
and light blankets of silvery
clouds above palisades
harboring an expanse of grass field
teaming with trots and jumps.
(iv)
Only a hillock on a long-necked stalk
planted into earth
grinds life to a standstill
after a dance of vines and lank stems.
Until I see an ostrich
race under the weight of its long neck,
a stalk steering the bird,
as it spins on its ladder-high legs
in a dance that catapults it
into the closed-in crevices of tall grasses
leaning like bowing partners on its hip.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem