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suicide poetry

das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
haben wir keine Schande?
auf und ab geht ihn
als ich am Sonnenuntergang zurückkam
möglicherweise
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
Sie sagen, daß Sie mich lieben
lassen Sie uns errichten
unten gekommen an der Dämmerung von den windless Hügeln

 



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