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short poem

ich bin fevered
die alten Songs
ich sagte
alle werfen die Jahre nieder
und breakethbrot nicht mehr
steigender Mond hat die Sterne versteckt
über ihnen alle, unten schauend
nun da ich zu Ihnen abgekühlt bin
ihr schönes Haar
ein Blick ist aber ein Strahl
plötzlich aus den dunklen und belaubten Weisen heraus
ich sah, daß Gott Sie es? bezweifeln
ein Fliegenwort von hier und dort

 



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