High in the low wold
Reading Neizsche
out loud; old friends’
morbid teacher
Read Nietzsche; Sweat
in the harsh spring sun
Macabre teacher
‘Neath my thumb and tongue
Sweat in the spring sun
Stalking fruits:
Under tongue and thumb
Finding crush of blue
Stalking fruits
Igniting flowers
A crush of blue
smoke
smearing hours
Flowers ignited
Turned to ash
Smoke smeared hours
left in the grass
Turned to ash
By the weight of ages
left in the grass
Those borrowed pages
The weight of ages
Sung with a laugh
Borrowed pages
Forgotten and passed
Sing with Laughter
High in the low wold
Forget the past my
old friend, out loud.