In high-tech sweatshirts

the joggers are running trails --


of expensive scents.

The sitting room makes

me feel like I have to walk --


in a gliding way.

Those in power no longer torture
a palace guard to rob a garden
from abroad for their lusts

no, nowadays money is enough
the magnetic big money
which always finds servants

Look closely at this painting
the colors are darker, and old
is the paint skin, forever

masterful are the brush strokes
yet this matter is only
just an attachment

for the trade in big names
the derivatives of art
with which profit is spoken

The sexton enjoys

lamenting about God's love --


and the vale of tears.

The salesperson, the global sociopath, the way to consumer heaven and consumer paradise.

On earth, stars twinkle

untouchably far away --


Close by they die out.

She is silent, I

keep talking, I say too much –


put on show naked.