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sad poetry

möglicherweise
die auf das Oberseite sagen, daß sie Sie, Masse kennen -- sie sind Lügner
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
mit Lippenblut Rot und Herz des Steins
das endlose, dumme merriment der Sterne
das kleine mitfühlende, getragen, Lachengesichter
alter Wein zum Trinken
oben auslösen, unten fallend
letzter Mitternacht
wie ein blanker Mann ich gehen
wenn es
jetzt, während meine Lippen leben
sie konnte ihn im früheren Frühling gekannt haben
entlang einem River-side

 



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