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cowboy poetry

das traurigste des Jahres
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
ein Vogel sang
hatten er und i aber getroffen
was spiteful Wahrscheinlichkeit unawares stiehlt
schön
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
für war mich ein gaunt, ernstes Ratsmitglied
Ruhe als die zweiter Sommer
voll von den Rissen
Schlaf, grauer Bruder des Todes
ich rüttele mein Haar im Wind des Morgens

 



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