Tirade 67 / 1962
[p. 473]

[Gedicht]

 
In the airconditioned evening,
 
to decide,
 
about life,
 
without a God,
 
with a capital G,
 
seems so ridiculous.
 
But,
 
there is the distance,
 
between Their lives,
 
and my existence,
 
which would not be,
 
with that capital G.
 
 
 
Carrying around my sins,
 
I try to think,
 
why they are mine,
 
a perfect load,
 
and commit some more,
 
and,
 
feel the distance,
 
between me and me,
 
without that capital G.
 
 
 
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