The Weather Glass

By | 2 February 2001

evening – we cross a deserted city – it's
raining

the whole infinite milieu!

you tell me the story of democritus
in the garden of abdera – it's pitch dark

i try to remember details
a telephone number date of birth

(in order to make sense of what has
gone before?)

it doesn't matter you say – only to see
obscurely
average situations

This entry was posted in 06: NEW POETRY and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Related work:

Â