here is many door. and you always <br />hit into my most. often when there is no me. <br />you are stopping. and you are entering. <br />in order after oneself to leave something. <br /> <br />thank you very much. <br /> <br />only this many I can say <br />I am still on the run, for ages <br />I am calling spirits of the past <br />they recognised you as soon <br />as you crossed the threshold <br />the observer spread cards <br />and one discovered <br />there was your face <br />there with the false smile <br /> <br />woman in the green loose coat she tore all buttons <br /> <br />away saying - I count on you <br /> <br />under her arm, too firmly she clenched your head, <br /> <br />whom in a minute, <br /> you put on the neck, of the one, of name reciting <br /> <br />to the memory of cities, <br />bringing up her left and to the right <br /> <br />you only mistook rising tides and drain holes for <br /> <br />the deluge - asilly think. <br />we are after all on the bend. <br />what's this? and 'rope of sand' <br /> <br />it is only an illusion<br /><br />Maria Barbara Korynt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-dream-on-the-run/
