Fragment for my Small Child
The golden compasses are broken
poetry
The Cry of the Wound
The wound cries with an autonomous voice,
The Honeycomb Ceiling
The honeycomb ceiling, circles and squares
Poem
the jelly bomb
The Autumn is Not Yet Here
the autumn is not yet here
A Child's Winter Song
Let us walk upon the snow
Flesh as Grass
I wath them from the sheepwell at the hilltop, -
A Room in Nuremburg
This window frames my present world.
Veterans
There are seventy times seven kinds of loving
Lopey
We have a gentle neuter cat
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Current Issue: No. 301
