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angel poem

eine Meile nach
wie Adler auf hoher Höhe
bis zu ihrem Raumfenster
Standplatz hier durch meine Seite
und noch gingen sie an
Schriftsatz auf einer Fliegennacht
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
es gibt kein Entweichen durch den Fluß
die Luft ist von Dämmerung und Frühling voll
einige der Hurts, die Sie kuriert haben
geschaukelt in die Aufnahmevorrichtung vom tiefen
ich erwarte Sie

 



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