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Russian icons in your deserted apartment Follow us with their painted eyes. The rubber plants Thrive against the window, obscuring afternoon. The memory of our last dinner together survives you.
What to say? A worn-out man Climbs finally the sky-path to oblivion While we with our knotted foreheads go on Mourning the loss of a difficult friend
For you were long since half crossed-out In the address book of that starry night You crashed the car in a wooded place Not unlike the wilderness of your feelings.
Now, deep in this building a relay clicks A puff of air takes life in the vents. I think how often you must have heard this also A cloudy almost-something, a soul ascending.
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Poem for Werner G. (1940 - 2006) |
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All work within this periodical is copyrighted by the authors and Big Pond Rumour, January 2008. No part is to be copied or reproduced without the written consent of the authors and Big Pond Rumour Press. |