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memorial poem

von unseren versteckten Plätzen
sie fragen mich, wo ich gewesen bin
aus mir heraus unwürdig und unbekannt
schön
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
wenn es
gestern Abend legte der Vollmond ein Tuch von Weiß
blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
wenn der Wind gegen uns in der Dunkelheit arbeitet
Melancholie, Blau war sie
jene schwarzen Augen I einmal so gepriesen
ich bilde meinen Abschirmrahmen, aber niemand weiß

 



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