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slam poetry

das Swanbestehen
ich sah, daß Sie und shivering auf den Steinen hunched
ich verachte meine Freunde mehr als Sie
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
ein mit Ihnen
sind Sie wach?
die alten Songs
wölbte die Flut
innerhalb dieses niedrigen Grabs liegt ein conqueror
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
in Ihrem Flug
tat Sie sehen überhaupt ein Krokodil


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