Collapsing new buildings
Tabla Rasa
Late night, early morning
NO LIGHT
only that of the still glowing dreams in the
higher background
mirage not mine
/>chimaera from a thousand years and
one night
not many were consumed
step down the Trummerberg: for your dazzling sun wheel
of power
yet I have your mountains of ruin< br/>got behind me safely
visibly battered, but
unharmed:
even if it never passed away
only those that passed away for her
arrives at the bottom: I left it -
almost loses his balance: undeceived
no idea where to look
only eyes staring with hope
DAWN ON THE EASTERN HORIZON
goes confidently in this direction.
One higher wall, along it: this picture is similar to mine
in silhouettes
it was ideal and many were
shot into it
breach
HARD BACKLIGHT in the glare of their once
/>Incomparable figure
She has impressed many people
But she has taken shape
Goes on: I leave her - disappointed
The wall gets lower, disappears
Finally completely , but runs underground
continues. (NO LIGHT UNDERGROUND)
NOON
Black block, on it an idol modeled after her, a weapon as part of the neck with a
molded; Next to it is a switch and a red-
framed poster.
She remains standing in front of it, looking at it:
under wild pen scratches
I think I can see my face
PRESS LIGHT< br/>She recognizes this as a deception,
The idol melts, the block disintegrates into numerous small fragments.
She turns around and leaves:
I'm leaving her - deceived
Monday ballet
my profile in the ideal
she, in the crowd, unrecognized: as a paper cut in the flag
through the hole in a flag
the crowd staring with hope
Supposedly sunrise
on the western horizon
I leave you - unfazed
SUNSET
Here is not what I'm looking for
and if it isn't nowhere - then
elsewhere
NIGHT, ABSOLUTE DARKNESS
GRAEBERFELD
She feels her way through.
Various corpus delicti, scattered as stumbling stones and rocks in the way, mostly
complete unrecognizable, mutilated or in rapid decomposition.
PHANTASMAGORIA; THE SHORT AND UN-
MEDIATE FLASH:
(any resemblance to her would be purely coincidental).
Men poorly disguised as women, the thick
painted lips in the middle of the beard. Blue or
green war eyeshadows. Some with rifles, following an old habit, aiming at the black sky, shooting colorful stupid birds. Others foolproofly smile at the flower as it runs.
A couch.
Orgone accumulators.
Joan Baez.
Sensual promises in sacrificial lamb
lingerie in bulk and im Pack.
Ghosts, orphans, phantoms, European travelers
ghosts.
Do-gooder ideas.
An answering machine for last questions as a
self-firing system.
Chair.
Ultimately , a hedge burning for the last time -
the bushes
- LIGHT OF THE BURNING HEDGE -
anointing the old Salm: ichbinderichbinderichbin...
past it.
I'm leaving them - undeceived
After the hedge has completely burned down, only
GREY TWILIGHT
of indeterminable origin; from somewhere there-
behind.
here is not what I am looking for
up the slope: it is not anywhere else - so nowhere
where else?
THE LIGHT IS BECOMING STRONGER -
Her silhouette is getting smaller and smaller, her contours
can hardly be made out anymore: the delusion is increasing
and so finally through
I have returned to
where I have never been before< br/>leave her.

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