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im September
vor dem ernsten Bronzeheiligen
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
einige windigere Tage
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort
truely
erklären Sie mir weniger oder erklären Sie mir mehr
wer den Wind nennen wird
meine zutreffende Liebe von ihrem Kissen stieg
die Bögen der roten Brücke
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit
lassen Sie nicht hören

 



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