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free love poetry

hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
diese alte silberne Schüssel von meinen
so gefallen
desolate und einsam
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
ängstlich nicht mehr, sage ich
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
ich fülle diese Schale
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
es gab ein strangeness auf Ihren Lippen
ich brenne keinen Duft
gelebt durch den River-side
er würde sogar seinen Witz haben

 



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