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autumn poetry

fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-Faßraum
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
ich habe daß eine bestimmte Prinzessin gehört
es gibt drei Möglichkeiten, in denen Männer nehmen
hatten er und i aber getroffen
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben

 



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