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math poem

wenig Park, den ich durch führe
ich habe die stolzesten Sterne gesehen
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
Geräusche, die sich bemühen heftig zu zerreißen
hoch-getragenes Rennen
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
und während wir gingen, wurde das Gras schwach gerührt
ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte


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