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religious poem

den brennenden Gedanken kleiden
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
Nobility des Todes wieder
das Swanbestehen
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
unter dusky Lorbeerblatt
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
ich liebte eine Frau
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
ich bete nicht für Frieden
ich liebe mein Leben, aber nicht zu gut
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins

 



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