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nature poem

Melancholie, Blau war sie
irgendwo las ich eine merkwürdige, alte, rostige Geschichte
was wir jetzt tut
ich erwarte Sie
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
Schriftsatz auf einer Fliegennacht
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
glänzt das letzte Alter, das folgende mit Hoffnung wird gesehen
schwach-weak-winged Song
die langen resounding Marmorflure

 



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