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black poetry

dieser merkwürdige Begleiter kam auf shuffling Füße
ist häufig er nicht so?
truely
es gibt ein Land voll des Weins
ich habe die Welt geworfen
ich liebe, eine Weile weg zu stehlen
im September
eine Meile nach
dunkel-eyed
in einem alten Raum beleuchtete weich
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
ich stehe im kalten grauen Wetter

 



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