Zywa
Interflowed
At night I'm not aware of anything
until suddenly there is the smell of orange
a man who talks to me
dressed in nothing
what leaves to guess
Sleeping I know everything
good and evil a man a man
a word a word and action
the world full of grounds and seed
from which a magical mixture grows
Dreaming I see sharp and soft
a struggle of grass and fur and
right through green and white
stream blue layers of air
interflowing colours
bed-free love
|