Simone Goertz




This is a demolition, I was being spit out.

Under the flickering moonlight stands the stowaway.

He resembles a resurrection, I see him.

The moon is my eclipse, pressed in front of me.


Then it shuts my eyes for nothing at all.

An exact shadow is colder.

I run to fast in the trap.

My dream

Is turning in and out of my thoughts.


I let vanish the setting up of stars.

The silence will flinch the air together.

My skin is full of hydrogen signs.

A fountain of earthly water uplifts.


I rotate dumbly, very hot.

Red, broken light is what I can give.

Planets court me permanently.

My arms are protuberances.

They are coming back, they won’t leave me.

I must burn to create something new.


The children at the junction.

An army of cells and sickle-shaped, an arrival of life.

Something small looks up to me; I am a God to it.

Out of a bastardy world.


I plant oxygen in your garden.

It is unstable in its kind, unique.

Golden by full moon, my food

Is deadly and isolated.


A golden orphan is my separation.

I am the beginning, an estuary of an indisputable river.

I will be the end.

A monition of gas, I am the center,

In a black-chromium home sea.

All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Simone Goertz.
Published on on 12/06/2020.


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