Poesie

how this unspeakable sadness sank in
to an old Gaelic tune
with an unpronounceable name
played by a young string quartet

I want the snow to cover all the paths taken
the straight and the winding ones.

let us love
like the trees
the sky, the winds

Edward Hopper only got as far as Passau
there he was swallowed up by a giant screen.
I too have been trapped in it ever since.

what if?
when I no longer have to be good
and no longer have to repent