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funeral poem

hoch-getragenes Rennen
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
neben einem geschlagenen Feld
dieser merkwürdige Begleiter kam auf shuffling Füße
diese sind
wenn ihr Haar wild flaying
wenn es
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf
als ich am Sonnenuntergang zurückkam
ein Himmel, der nie Sonne, Mond oder Sterne gekannt hat
wie ein blanker Mann ich gehen
Moonlight tief und zart
gloom
ich bin der Wind, der wavers

 



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