mimosas in the snow my sun seen in sleep
rummaging my hair on a pillow of fluffy airy sugar
torn walls by the legs of the bed
monastery puzzle in the peace of my palms
the fruit yes the fruit
completeness under stained-glass breathing its moment
of oblivion
soul uplifted through lips of pipe organ
higher than into the silence of silence it is
I suppose
there
sadness in peacock feathers
subjects in frames intensely heartily painted
pain syncope pain syncope pain
syncope
mimosas in the snow
my sun
I dreamt you sun only my sun
what season do you know more
tell me anything
about being early about being late
about bored gladiators about hunger or laurels
or about
nothing
in this dream it has already been getting as dark
as it was until
coldness
angels of shadow are leaking from my veins
sliding more and more wistfully
more and more
towards the black colour
mimosas are fading
sleeping
the feeling passed by hither