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math poem

Material des Mondes
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
er spricht nicht gut
ein Vogel sang
Stern-Staub und vaporous Licht
um Mitternacht
sehr gut Sie Liberale
ich sehe einen Stern heute abend
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
an der Dämmerung sagte er
süsses splendor
warum so traurig mein reizendes?
ein dünner grauer Schatten auf dem Rand des Gedankens
voll von den Rissen

 



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