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memorial poem

ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
seien Sie, Leben geduldig, wenn Liebe am Gatter ist
truely
voll von den Rissen
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter
seien Sie nicht mit mir verärgert
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
ich weiß nicht wo
die hypocritic Tage

 



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