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■ The oak
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nothing changes
I find that which I do not seek meanwhile I keep reading stuff to get sober for instance about the times when stones used to attach wings to their sandals and amber cufflinks greenish twinkles in the sunlight and still felt bitter I listened to some peoples stories whispered to others` ears kept talking till they got fed up with loneliness and rushed away stepping bluntly over my shadow anyway it is so much easier to endure others than oneself I again revised all gods´ sakes and their mothers´ names now I only have to order them alphabetically and close the damn book I got savagely drunk on witty words and love facts my beauty is just as you know it generally doing well particularly victims and finally undergoing self-destruction like highly improbable monsters in bad American movies head-aches are being a pain in my stomach donât really remember what is it after I vomit the last illusions into the chloroform jar every dull morning I throw myself through the penthouse window towards a new one-way day with a coffee pot near at hand every time something else always the same unrepeatable up to excess then I wondered whoâs who in whose indifferent grave matter of perspective rather than signature and who can cry louder or be quiet longer it occurred to me I could see some words all dressed up in negligees making a show of themselves among sand milk and water sort of light signals left behind by flying snails on the palm of the text I carry mine on the other side walk on wire with my sun umbrella and watch you swing the orange bicycle on the opposite string with only one toe that lady is watching both of us absent-mindedly and I pretend to be you two-three stanzas short
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