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black poetry

diese alte silberne Schssel von meinen
aus dem Fenster heraus ein Meer der grnen Bume
Farbtne der Nacht fielen schnell
welches hlt
Blten der Babys
Sturm
erneuern Sie den Anblick der Freude
es gibt ein, das dieses i einmal so sehr liebte
wenn ich zurck zu Masse gehe
und wie Sie Traum der Sitzung konnten
wenn es
ich loathed Sie
die Sterne fielen vom Himmel
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit

 



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