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writing poetry

sie können von der Liebe in einem Häuschen sprechen
meine Mutter unterrichtete mich daß jede Nacht
die alten Songs
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren
kein Opfer sind ich der schlechten Gedanken
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend
wir legen
wir brechen das Glas dessen sacred Wein
ich denke sie gerades herrliches

 



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