petrified kisses
of mythic aesthetes
enchains us
in bondage
with passion
———of pain
lies alice’s incarnation in cellar
of mad hatter’s abysmal hat
where you don’t speak of eden’s garden
or the endlessness of moons
with their shadows
in the marrow of your own
are giraffes placed
———in the first floor
with their heads over the roof
into the clouds
decorated with girdle of flours
run rabbits knots in their heads
and seamen sail through the bosphorus
of your heartstrings
sings sirens of hope
that never will fulfill
is the sun the only ray
that will stay
———in the world
of tomorrow’s us

Raoul Eisele

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