self-translation

[accountancy]

black sun in the streets.
in rags drag themselves 
the shards of this scene.

the city indicts the heavens
with its dark glass pinkies.

my feverish daemon,
in a skeletal squeeze,
sticks 
such shrapnel in my bleed:

.......................pulsating worms in the dreams
.......................of every reticent being
.......................crave: "killing!".

.......................so the knife in their eyes
.......................and napalm in their speech.

.......................so the plaques those moms cradle
.......................or the moan to kids breached

.......................while in their mud thrones frigid 
.......................graphs are governing these 
.......................macabre machineries!

my silence smells
like shredded babies.

metaphysical caress:
my reefer necropsies me.

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Uma possível tradução pro meu poema preferido de Whitman

self translation 5

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