Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
BY MARIANNE BORUCH
as whimsy, legend-tough
to the core. Dont. But its
their spell too, isnt it? Locked there.
Aligned with singing, dazzle
razor-blackened green. Not that they
miss what human is like or know any end
to waters half born to, from where
they look up.
Men in boats, so sick of the journey.
Men gone stupid with blue,
with vast, with gazing over and away
the whole time until same to same-old to
now theyre mean. After that, small.
Out there, the expanse. In here,
the expanse. The men look down. Aching
misalignmentgorgeous
lure that hides its hook steely sweet
to o my god, little fools breath
triumphant, all the way under and am I
not deserving?