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erotic poetry

ich wußte nie, daß die Masse soviel Gold hatte
als weiße Kerze
ich bildete ein Versprechen einmal, eins nur
über dem Fluß auf dem Hügel
liegt hier eine schönste Dame
die langen resounding Marmorflure
die Schwärzung stiehlt die Formen aller Königinnen
Schlaf süß in Ihren humble Gräbern
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
für Wahrheit für Liebe


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