The distruction of distraction.
Everything webby and spectral becomes so
suddenly compelling. There isn’t really any story
but that’s no bother. We stop quickly
on romantic grounds. Everything said
can be un and on, here and there.
Intheface of the face everything affects casually.
I make such kernely dedications. The wild
boarishness of cyclists, the coming back
of trains. We look at the naked terrorists,
their faces unseeable; you come so slowly down
here. The stepwedding. The future stands out
on another.
We are sleeping still, in and out. In the end effect
the fog affects nightly and by day
we are there. Let’s telephone. Let us
and then, easy-going, let-go-of, in-finally
everything goes out again. The afterdinner.
The nightstand. The Richterscandal.

Die Ablenkung des Lenkers.

This entry was posted in gedichte, language(s), poetry, repetition, traffic lights, translation. Bookmark the permalink.

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