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Matin ...

le mars 30, 2008

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Matin de printemps, mon ombre aussi déborde de vie !

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men murder each other in the streets without reason.

the worst men have the best jobs the best men have the worst jobs or are unemployed or locked in madhouses. I have 4 cans of food left. air-conditioned troops go from house to house from room to room jailing, shooting, bayoneting the people. we have done this to ourselves, we deserve this we are like roses that have never bothered to bloom when we should have bloomed and it is as if the sun has become disgusted with waiting it is as if the sun were a mind that has given up on us. I go out on the back porch and look across the sea of dead plants now thorns and sticks shivering in a windless sky. Somehow, I'm glad we're through finished— the works of Art the wars the decayed loves the way we lived each day. when the troops come up here I don't care what they do for we already killed ourselves each day we got out of bed. I go back into the kitchen spill some hash from a soft can, it is almost cooked already and I sit eating, ...

Plötzlich stieg Wasser !

2 Grundlos leicht fliesst 3 lässig der Rhein 5 glitzert geschmeidig 7 über's Gebein

the strongest of the strange

Charles Bukowski

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