LANGUAGE
Without translation, I would be limited to
the borders of my own country. The translator is
my most important ally.
— Italo Calvino
My typewriter is multilingual,
its keys mysteriously calibrating
my bipolar, forked tongue.
Black-red silk ribbon spools, unwind
as the carriage moves right to left.
In cursive hand, I write from left to right.
My tongue was born promiscuous —
speaking in many languages.
My heart spoke another, my head
yet another — the translation, seamless.
*
Auricles, ventricles pump blood —
corpuscle-like alphabets, phrases, syntax
cross-fertilize my text, breathing life.
Texture enriched — music, cadence
spatially enhanced — osmotic,
polyglottal — a polygamy of grammar.
Letterforms dance, ligatures pirouette —
ascenders, descenders — pitch perfect.
Imagination isn’t caged in speech —
speech cannot be caged in language.
