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lyric poem

alle innen und alle ohne mich
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
gestiegen von den Toten
der Geruch von stieg so falsch, die zutreffenden Dornen so
innerhalb meiner Hand halte ich
der Regen sein rüber und die leuchtende Luft
ich singe Ihnen
möglicherweise ist es gleichgültig, das Sie starben
bleiben Sie nicht mehr
schauen Sie heraus nach den Sternen, meine Liebe
sie sprengte fierce Wein
das Kind, das weg Blatt nach Blatt warf


 



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