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thanksgiving poetry

drehen Sie mich unten durch die Wiese
ich erwarte Sie
Überschreiten durch die huddled und häßlichen Wände
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend
ich sah ihn einmal vorher
gute Frau
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
unter den Bergen wandered ich
sie hörte die Kinder, in der Sonne zu spielen


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