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angel poem

Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
schöne, tragical Gesichter
ich weiß, was Sie sagen werden
zu einigem die fetten Götter
wie ich sollen Sie, helfen Sie rechts der Welt, die falsch geht
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
unter dem Erntemond
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
er warfen einen Stein, Sie warfen einen Stein
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen

 



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