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there, were a still living bird sings,
sings of how we will not die,
but simply remain invisible for all time
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Thusly, we momentarily see reality, crawling through
the trenches, showing its spikes to the outside world.
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and the snow will crunch, and the dew will push through the door,
and there will be nothing,
only three hearts, palms grown together
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It’s liberating, like removing diapers from a child –
I crawl through my dream naked and without shame.
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Summer ends in my womb
while autumn begins to ripen.
I’ll have a little wolf
every night now.
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am I free? – I ask myself
could I be free? – I have my doubts
am I under arrest? – not yet
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you are the moneysucker
the cognac-swiller, the limousine-rider
the shoe-polisher - I mean the bootlicker
