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poetry in motion

sie sagte
wer den Regen liebt
der Regen sein rüber und die leuchtende Luft
gegangen die drei, jene seltenen Schwestern
und mit dem Summenvogel
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
an der Dämmerung sagte er
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
unter dem Helm des Warriors
fällt hier kein Licht
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
sie in der Schwärzungsversammlung und bitten
Moonlight tief und zart

 



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