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Oceanic spume    lit
by your eyes        glistens
like thick snow in sunlight
    Blinding    Buying time
    Burying rhymes in a
nearby park     a poet's voice
blows in the Autumn wind
throughout the pasturage
    Flintlocked tongue  
    Benjamin Britten spliffs
of ear-gate melodies
My hopes are high      (a blank
webpage appears
in front of my eyes
says "Page introuvable"
    My purpose is to dogmatise
the rules of translation
    "Ride out" like Don Quixote
& howl like a coyote
    Face like a butcher's block
    My love for you was once
against the stones of grave irony
fossilized like losing one's
sense of color     like looking at
a rainbow & mistaking it for
hollow piping     A poem to
stretch to infinity    shrunken down
into "a drop of water
from the belly of a sturgeon"   
    It's mid-September   
celestial sparks of memory    
         the heat still rages
& burns my voice
before I utter a word