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son poem

gestiegen von den Toten
nehmen Sie meine Bracelets
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
der Regen sein rüber und die leuchtende Luft
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
wer den Wind nennen wird
die Masse hält etwas Erschütterungsgehen
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
Kurzschluß und süsses und wir sind zum Ende von ihm gekommen
als ich in Ihre Augen schaute
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne

 



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