A good poem infects your mind. Then, like a virus or bot, it seizes control of your memory. You think what it represents actually happened to you. Except in this case, it had, for me.<\/i><\/p>\n
*<\/p>\n
The sun shone down, falling hot upon her.
\nOn me too it fell, who lay beside her.
\nWaves broke, crept up to where we were,
\naroused by our naked splendor.<\/p>\n
Flesh exposed upon such expanse of sand.
\nA moment seized from what is endless.
\nTwo threads crossing upon a single strand.
\nThe sun above. Underneath, but darkness.<\/p>\n
After G\u00fcnter Kunert (Frist<\/em>)<\/strong><\/p>\n Und Sonne war und fiel hei\u00df auf sie nieder Ein wenig Fleisch auf soviel Sandgeh\u00e4ufe A good poem infects your mind. Then, like a virus or bot, it seizes control of your memory. You think what it represents actually happened to you. Except in this case, it had, for me. * The sun shone down, falling hot upon her. On me too it fell, who lay beside her. Waves broke, … <\/p>\n
\n<\/em>Und fiel auf mich der ich doch bei ihr war.
\n<\/em>Die Wellen gingen fort und kamen immer wieder
\n<\/em>Zur\u00fcck voll Neugier zu dem nackten Paar.<\/em><\/p>\n
\n<\/em>Ein wenig Frist in ziemlich viel Unendlichkeit
\n<\/em>Ein wenig Leben und zwei Lebensl\u00e4ufe
\n<\/em>Dar\u00fcber Sonne und darunter Dunkelheit.<\/em>\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"