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poetry in motion

dieses ist das Arsenal
fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-FaĂźraum
lassen Sie nicht hören
ich sah die Wolken unter den HĂĽgeln
eins nach dem anderen wie verläßt von einem Baum
ich singe Ihnen
sie konnte ihn im frĂĽheren FrĂĽhling gekannt haben
der Himmel
sie sprengte fierce Wein
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
meine ganze Liebe fĂĽr meinen Bonbon
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben

 



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