
“dieser mann aus felpu…
this man from felpu/ artist
and poet
squeezes his teabag with his fingers
and then places his fingers on his
eyelids too
before he drinks the squeezed rest
of the tea.”
mr t. tells that to his spouse
but mrs ira won’t comment –
as he had just done for her an
innermost dig/ creating five faces
who float in midst of an autumn
landscape –
he had conceived visually/ as he
drifted past in the 400-bus
that moves along the backwater of
the danube/ with its tall poplars
that let fall their colourful garb –
pretty women who hide their
denuded bodies
behind the mighty trunks –
their natural lonely habitat
for the oncoming wintry season –
elfin/ nymphs/ erotic beings?
as long as they’ll stay in our dreams
like that,
teabag/teesackerl/teebeutel.
zoltanzelan
zjg-poetry’21.
once a teabag pressed-out with fingers lead to other strange happenings in the mind…