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mother poem

ich weiß nicht wo
ich gehe hinunter die Gartenwege
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
dieser merkwürdige Begleiter kam auf shuffling Füße
von unseren versteckten Plätzen
dunkelstes, merkwürdigstes Geheimnis
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
wer den Regen liebt
umsponnen und gesponnen
möglicherweise

 



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