Haberfeldtreiben
a brook of paint and carboard,
batch of legs, bells and rings,
running torso of burnt faces;
teeth and horns, black with hair,
spit of the night and cold stars;
they have rented truth through rhymes
that fall like stones over the fields..
ist des wahr ? ja, wahr ist..
Copyright © Leslie Philibert | Year Posted 2018
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