This poem has been drawn from the February / March issue of the American Reader, available here.
✖
Your pluck is not refreshment
of honey—
it is [una puerta]
beside jumping into the world
nor is it the down escalator of [podlenky]
and/or [pesadilla]—
to reproach a lost generation
it is not an escapement
to the dirty [aah’ali] where you enter
O light! O ditch!
Your pluck is [la] polka dot [di smemoratezza]
blindly recognizing
a beloved in every [zalyotye]—
every [dégringolade]
your pluck is a flock of goats moving
[zigzaguilllmento] down the downslope
of good before & after.
May you prink with your hoofs
and all your flair
until [Mexico]!
*
Vocab for Today
puerta: door, port, spark, sham
podlenky: horizon woven out of blue things and arguments not able to be proven;
the blue eyebrows of Poseidon
pesadilla: nightmare, green fluorescent protein
aah’ali: parade
smemoratezza: forgetfulness; thin grass
zalyotye: bird blood
dégringolade: a sudden slanting of the rational plane of life
zigzaguilllamento: straight; on June 5th
Mexico: long time
✖