THAT COOL GREEN STRIP – Poetry, Lars Gustafsson

THAT COOL GREEN STRIP

That cold green strip, which was the morning had nothing in common with us. And the smoke from the chimneys, rising solemnly, straight up. In some god who loved, these vertical movements. And the crunch under your feet! Oh this indescribable crunch: no one can get not heard, that was for sure. And the suspicion that life, maybe he really had no sense, and not only in Schopenhauer and other hardy, old types. But here, too, under the white smoke in the sky.

(Lars Gustafsson)

http://www.amazon.com/Selected-Poems-Lars-Gustafsson/dp/1852249978