the joyful man Franz
maintained protuberance
from start to finish
he never came down the porch
measured stars named flowers
believed I am you
affixing number to time
humming in rhyme
he died and was deceased
like the shotgun and the cyst
frightened, he would see a skirt
as he fantasized asleep
and would sail at the helm
to a melancholy elm
where squads of beetles
performed about-faces
showed their mustaches to gods
pronounced themselves to be clocks
gods howled out of tune
and tumbled down from the moon
there in luxurious grass
an ant was being stamped
and the glowworm, unkind king
lit up a large lamp
silently the lightnings flashed
languid animals snorted
unhurriedly growled
the waves that lay on the sand
where? where did all this happen
where did this location roam
I forgot, the sun will say
sinking into the unknown
all we see is the exit
from the schoolbag of Franz
of the contemporary of man
the psychologist of the divine
this wizard announces
the party begins
idle stars crowd in
boring people smoke
lonely thoughts run around
everything is sad and pointless
God what kind of party is this
it’s the christmas of death or something
hens step around gulfs
the hall hops with cupids
and the iron steam-engine
meditates on cow-patties
Franz awoke from his nightmare
why are all these things here?
the valet stood here like a palm
before the meadows of eternity
short as a reed
the collar sleeps upon a chair
a branch of kerosene
overlooks the twilight
answer me wizard
is this a dream? I’m a fool
but where is that wizard
where is the psychologist of the divine
he counts songs in his sleep
growing bald as a tree
he can’t come here
where the real world stands
he calmly multiplies the shades
he does not shimmer in the sky
Turks give me my carriage
the joyful Franz called
give me the rocket of Ober
give me horsepower
I will ride around the world
in this fascinating cab
I will orchestrate a race
of the star with the prisoner earth
touch the ceiling with my head
I’m a bluebird
meanwhile out of the acute night
out of the abyss of the bad dream
appears a crown
and the ramified scythe
you’re an irate serpent
my childless death
hello Franz will sadly say
each of your hairs holds
more thoughts than a pot
more sleep than a powder
take out your saber
and open my shirt
and then open my skin
glue me to the bed
all the same shall learning triumph
I’ll announce as I gurgle
and create a grandson
my substitute in the form of a lamp
he will stand and glow
write essays for school
death said you are a flower
and fled to the east
Franz remained alone
to contemplate protuberance
measure stars name flowers
compose I and you
lying in absolute silence
in the empty heights