Well: Autumn

I know by now, here

you have sought love elsewhere

and wish for nothing more

than my dissipation

to make listen those who you call.

I wrought fish from the ferrous sea

to make keys, to reclude

and those bones enter no doorway

unsurpassed via miles of houses

shacks upon shore

pressing the bell tower

to kneel at the knell

and I shie at the shell

with cold season snap per chance

from a weedy well.

Our year of blood fear

a suscipe for the end of it all.

I allow myself future

so to weld and hammer

artificial worlds und gelb jacken

gilded geld for the guild

guilt for the debt and the dead

we build a paper bridge

girders to its rust

So shade to grey shale

some arc for the non-event

the trust of Mnemosyne and her sung stimmung

when you've left dust and trace on island crust

and reapparition of all whom we have known

when time tells itself apace to break from space.