As/Is







7.05.2006


white blocks

music haunts me as the wind
hissing of flaming logs
cracking and whining

huge white blocks
horses declined past two
that lie there so cold

plumage and ever
and the wind which bloweth
summons unanswered invitations

the soft voice rolls
beside the street
suddenly was the moon

a shining cut
deserted
and nothing moves