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April 1989


In Memoriam ~ A Self Portrait


he walked and he talked and


he even sometimes laughed

a pleasant laugh

if dishonest

harsher thoughts hidden

beneath its gentle sound


if youd taken a closer look

into his eyes


youd not have seen joy

hidden behind the fog

joy and pain do not share rooms

his eyes

had he not hidden them

would have told the truth



he lived, he breathed


he was alive


he was all the time

his own mausoleum


through his life

death held its grip

until he himself

became a pale façade

a front of life

through which death lived


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