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erotic poetry

die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
ich bilde meinen Abschirmrahmen, aber niemand weiß
wie wie die Sterne dieses Weiß ist, namenlose Gesichter
die Wiese kroch
im Hafen neuen Yorks
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
ich bete nicht für Frieden
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
babylon -- wo ich gehe zu träumen
Glück
ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf

 



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