badly translated by Christine Fojas
So it seem to us cloudy cool. The temperature endures. For ill-gained pages got kin across the canyon. When essences meet we revive, pluck odes that rhyme and get us to stop classic time. Architects take action: we tricycled cash and codes for socialists who like us by dint of procrastinated love for magic, for soul. And you, cara, metastase suns. It's good to be at the front of the line, to push. I see through you but to see kin for miles is to carry it around. I have here a new game: kick good. How? Like taking ten cars here? No. See love in the salty tears of the kneeling; take her to see cathedrals. Act steady. Does giants muse at the same time for the same meat? Thus parody. The vocalist is a transparent mechanism. No daughter surrenders art in such ridiculous beats. Escape reason and pseudo eugenics. Detox your stances but color is nice and this is a dense dream and not really there. Not you dude. Be a cool nobody.
ok. this is a completely senseless and surreal poem. the prompt: a homophonic translation of a foreign poem. the original is a tad surreal, too, but so so so much better: called "FROM THE CASE OF BONES" by Lithuanian poet Eugenijus Ališanka.