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type of poetry

so verloren
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
süß und stark
meine Seele geht in den gorgeous Sachen plattiert
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
hören Sie den Regen?
der Blitz blitzte und hob an
wir waren nicht viele
einmal dieser weiche Rasen

 



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