kein bus, keine tram, keine u-bahn
kolonnen und staus überall
und kluge läufer ungewohnter füße
ich grüß die immergleichen nachbarn
in kollegialen farben
ich geh gleich mit auf ausgetretnem pfad
wir lärmen, lachen, singen, winken
wir wollen auf uns aufmerksam machen
wir haben bedeutung, wir haben wert
alle autos stehn an uns vorbei
ach, da, ein schwarzer wagen
auch heut sterben die leut
© 2014
Calendar
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| 29 | 30 | 31 | ||||
You see, here you'll find poems and prose of opportunity and seasons. They're ours, though, so we have to protect them. Respect! Thank you!
Readers are welcome! If you are willing to follow the iconian path, you should know that it is always you we are talking to, even if it is not. And that everything is true, even if it is not. We all are eternally united in the last space possible where even the impossible is real. We ought to believe the foretold: If we'll meet tomorrow, next year, or never, it doesn't matter, it's only time! And everything, even time is fiction.
By the way, typos and other mistakes - we know there are many. If you can be bothered, please let us know. Thank you! And for any legal issues, please contact us before we have to tell you that we're skinned. But you can also write, of course, if you like what you read. Please, write to the webmaster.
