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slam poetry

ein kleiner Pfirsich im Obstgarten wuchs
die alten Songs
traurige Rolle der gedämpften Trommel hat Schlag
Überschreiten durch die huddled und häßlichen Wände
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
als Meer-Winde unsere Solitudes durchbohrten
alle beruhigen entlang dem potomac
dunkel-eyed
obwohl ich wenig als alle kleinen Sachen bin
mit den meek, braunen Augen
die Qual des Habens zu vieler Energie

 



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