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pastor appreciation poem

mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
Nacht war schwarz und drear
der Körper kann begrenzen
über den Dachspitzen laufen Sie die Schatten der Wolken
es gab drei in der Wiese durch den Bach
hören Sie
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
wenn es

 



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