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short poem

gegangen vor uns
ich hatte einen Traum und ich wachte mit ihm auf
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
Schatten legen entlang broadway
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins
ich loathed Sie
läßt lang das Sommertageslicht glänzen
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
als weiße Kerze
Melancholie, Blau war sie
wenn es
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
gestiegen von den Toten
in ihren zackigen regimentals

 



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