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grandma poem

einige windigere Tage
mit dem Sonnenuntergang
wer den Regen liebt
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
ich habe das Rennen gewonnen
erinnern sich Sie
die Wiese kroch
wickeln Sie die Masse im bewölkten Wetter auf
Meister der menschlichen Schicksale sind ich
wie ich innen roofed liege, innen aussortiert
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
dort durch das Fenster im alten Haus
Geräusche, die sich bemühen heftig zu zerreißen


 



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