you talk about a world
of flowers
and i cannot help but
also remember
the thorns and worms
bee to bee
tree to tree
do you wish to bring me there?
is there a world for me?
flowers for the bees
rivers for the trees
suns for the grass
stones for the sands
in your circus world
Brigitte
the clowns are no longer funny
look at me
i am no longer a child
candies do not
attract me
i decide for myself
now
and neither sorrow nor joy
is not
anymore the prime
envoy
These are poetic experiments. Man's quest for the poetic element never ceases. He is always caught in the eye of awe. He does not make the rules now. The rules change depending on the emotion that time and space feed him. He must see everything with his wide eyes gaping. The beginning of poetry too, like philosophy is wonder. Look and see. Do not stop wondering You are the poet. And everything is poetry. Wonder. Wander.
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