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autumn poem

gegangen vor uns
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
Blüten der Babys
die Lattentagesdrowses auf dem westlichen durchtränken
herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
Melancholie, Blau war sie
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
Moonlight tief und zart
wenn der Wind gegen uns in der Dunkelheit arbeitet

 



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