Plug on your fridge, come on.
The full capacity‘s all right.
Freeze deep your heart,
then brain,
then tongue,
then eyes…
Then
frozen waves of feelings you can break to pieces
and drop the two of them
down to an empty glass:
it sounds like bye-bye…
So well, -
bye-bye…
I know,
In your realm,
where numerus et nombre is a coin
and where the proper lines leave no space for refractions
this icy sound lives and rolls
until it meets the walls of your warehouse,
where
the baby friendship,
rusty bicycle
and risky sympathies are stored, -
among the rubbish, -
by
the unpredictable
and gloomy northern wind…
Hd.,28.10.01