am startled at times that the 1 whom I am
speaking to is not there, yellow and red elongate
leaflets from the robinia tree waft to the ground, then
through the side alley into the BÜRGER CAFÉ, reading with
blossoms and clouds, o Jesus your blood who can
save me, covered with oaks and sparse pine-trees, this
hasty goodbye you hurry to the car the stones of Sifnos with
blue-green brows while the cut-flowers razor-
sharp in the prairie, the rock-hard mnemotechnic, art of recalling,
automatized reciting dressing and undressing reading, drip
dab onto the asphalt or my grating
steps. The kitchen window open wide my brain
in the hollows of my knee, breathing heavy
 

10/15-16/04