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graduation poem

lassen Sie uns errichten
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln
so verloren
wie ich sollen Sie, helfen Sie rechts der Welt, die falsch geht
allein
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
holen Sie mir weichen Song
diese sind
wenn die Stunden des Tages numeriert werden
an der Dämmerung sagte er
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
Glasbläser der Zeit

 



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