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prose poetry

allein
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
sehen Sie, von dieser Fälschung von ihm
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
Geräusche, die sich bemühen heftig zu zerreißen
desolate und einsam
weiße Schaumgummiblume, rote Flammeblume
wo ich sollen Sie, finden Sie Sie
wenn ich sehr sicher war
haben Sie gesehenes Gehen durch das Dorf
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend
ich bin alt und blind
es gab eine Zeit in den ehemaligen Jahren
zu einigem die fetten Götter

 



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