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black poetry

die Dämmerung war apfelgrün
ich bin fevered
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
weich als das Bett in der Masse
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
so gefallen
vor tausend leisen Jahren
ich gehe meine Weise complacently
was ich Ihnen verdanken
nie in meinem ganzem Leben
die einzelne zusammengeprgessene angehobene Faust und bereiten vor
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
ist häufig er nicht so?
das Licht zurückgenommen

 



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