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Hymn of gratitude

After the final end

(Autumn 1961)

The stones iron

The shadows have long lashes,

They beat in the wind. .

Cries cooing, a sound like bone

On the slopes

Decomposition grins back

In the dark

Statistics are silenced

For ever.

The moon has a yard

With little crosses

The night weeps

Horror limps on crutches

To another star –

which is glad to see it!

God has

Drunk himself to death.

He stinks of schnapps.

Tears clink like glass

A pearl necklace –

Endless!

Death sleeps

For ever –

He has been overworking!

He can’t rub his hands

Any more.

He’s too tired!

The light has dried up

Ice does not drench –

If God were not drunk

I would thank him!