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sorry poem

es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
burly, DösenHumblebiene
der Himmel
ich kann nicht seinem greatness immer glauben
rückwärts drehen Sie sich rückwärts
gaily durch die Felder tanzten wir
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert
sehr gut Sie Liberale
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen

 



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