A seafront full of salt; a lost girl
And a wind that puts space between us.
...
Maria`s little house, far from a shed of prayer,
a doll`s house, small roof clean
and bricked, aped from a farmhouse.
...
Hair of the spider;
the old man`s curse,
spicules of ice
...
If you know you have lost
then look over the silent stones.
Three trees against the dusk
and thorns that curl in the rain.
...
It is night
but there are lights
to show that veins are open.
Houses are trapped in amber
...
There are too many moons,
bells are under the church.
The night is not as dark as a wet ditch
...
So when my profile
falls apart
and every swing door greets
...
Ankle deep in straw and muck;
a belched mob delights in man woman man.
Smoke to be cut with a shout,
roars at the thought of a rutting,
...
Shoved in a jacket, a folded heart,
a breakage of words about the body fascism.
Nach Auschwitz ein Gedicht zu schreiben
ist barbarisch. So sing then a song about
...
And this is what I need
When a statue drops
And flings porcelain
between my shoes.
...