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teen love poem

achtzig Jahre haben und mehr überschritten
Sturm
ich war eine Göttin, ere der Marmor mich fand
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
erklären Sie mir
unter dem Helm des Warriors
fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-Faßraum
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
Blüten der Babys
verbessern Sie als Granit
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
alle innen und alle ohne mich


 



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