8.09.1995.D1 out (+0617)
broken branches wheeze on the edge of the forest,
and the moon is punctured;
in the wrong courtroom
judge was beaten -
others were executioners.
the sun is on the table - I cut it into slices,
I SWALLOW LIFE AS TREASON; -
silent in the darkness - I and my heart just
bent at our roots.
how many times have I on abandoned table
pulled an empty box of HB s?
how many times I passed through the park -
under the mask of face waited for the end of summer.
-waiting for the night as a lost dog
without a will in myself -
without all that is lost