we ride - our orleans, right?
we were like trees’ crests passing by.
infinite rows of them leading us the way,
blurred and not vine.
we were like those trees’ branches
with emptied minds
like they’ve got rid of their leaves.
spring.
gray.
and grayish walls running
beside us, endlessly.
we.
sharing the same way.
and ‘oh’, the birds.
like single strains of hair
who just loosened themselves
and in grief mourning, they
slowly fall or rather seemingly
‘no’, infinitely seeming to fall.
consciously led to their ends
and just like one of those –
doomed – we pretended to be falling
to the ground, too.
our mourning grievously re-
echoing, but almost like
silence, from the blades of
grass who surrounded us.
growing tall around us
like in an embrace
comparable to how they
welcome birds, now, on their
last flights towards their
graves.
we.
they.
spring.
gray.
free.
a cloud in mid-air we were
we, the intruders
alienated by the sphere
flying like waste, needles and tins
awfully beautiful
and ordinary
a thunder.
the prey.
like those cloud’s thoughts we were
resembling molecules in love
we, being our own attempts
like every single raindrop
from above.
roads encasing us by thoughts
like a thunder, in gusts of wind
like Venice encased by the sea
you hear?
grainy asphalt we were
pressed together like stones
acting as if being driven upon
a thunder.
the prey.
we.
they.
roads.
gray.
free.
August 30th, 2008 at 11:36
Beim Lesesn des Gedichtes flossen Bilder wie einzelne Frequenzen durch meinen Kopf.
Ein Wechsel der Perspektiven. Aus der Luft, auf dem Boden, in der Luft, in der Zeit.
Viele Bilder, welche einander ergänzen, erklären, die gemeinsam erzählen.
Eine sehr schöne Wortreihung, die gleichsam schwermütig, wie leicht erscheint.
Danke für den Einblick
August 30th, 2008 at 16:38
you are right