You should note this poem is easy to translate.
First—and maybe, not last—I’m an American.
All my lovers have been assimilated immigrants.
I, too, am an assimilated immigrant—
I was born here, but my soul is from another place.
I get along with neither builders who carry guns
Nor credentialed academics—to them, I’m kryptonite,
Because I’m the better poet, and the amateur, too.
As a blue eyed, straight, white, dude, I assimilate
Daily because of all the dislikes I have,
And to those who push the “other” in my face: screw you.
Poetry will save the world—poetry is what we must do.
Those who don’t know poetry, squirm like worms underground;
If you have millions, you are but a worm covered in gold.
And communists, get over yourselves,
Because everything will be bought and sold.
I know poetry will save the world. I like Christianity—
A beautiful religion which says “do not cast stones”—
But I would happily be a Muslim, if I could remain a poet,
And seduce through the robes just looking at the eyes,
But secretly, for I want to respect the fathers and the grandmothers.
I prefer not to insult in my poetry. I would rather tell a bunch of lies.