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concrete poetry

blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
weich jetzt das Licht des Tages
die alten Songs
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
ich bot sie aller Abschied
es gibt eine Stadt, builded durch keine Hand
stieg und Bernstein war der Sonnenuntergang auf dem Fluß
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
ein süß ernster Gedanke

 



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