Three Poems
By Marco Kunz.
What makes sense
in the end, maybe
it’s just the trivial -
rain-wet tarmac
smelled in may – one point of
time, just lived and
inhaled, what more
do you seek, what
more do you long for?
The great ambitions, bleak
and awful, just
fuel for burning,
travelling on
economics
a pork chop and a slice of bread – you’re
having good times, luxury
is just subjective anyway, you
tell yourself, you bite the bread …
Seen objectively, economically a
total failure your life, in any case: the
merchandise value of your pleasures
very low – okay, all volumes of Proust
(soft covers but new) cost nearly
200 marks at least back then, but
peanuts compared to the never-made
air-trip (hitchhiking through half of Europe
instead – more experienced than spent,
really impudent in fact) – Döblins
Berlin.Alexanderplatz then again
cost you a whole of 2 marks antiquarian, and
such a lot of Berlin in it, you don’t get
a short distance public transport ticket
through the city at that price
Maybe you’re even an outstanding
businessman, it shortly crosses your
head, in whose mouth you put a
piece of pork chop – tasty!
You tell me,
You tell me, god is a balloon
and pump your gas lift in my time
I’m getting heavy, getting light
wind from azores wafts me away
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in 1974 Weilburg, Germany, Marco Kunz won the 1999 Award for promising writers from the Ministry of Culture of Hessen and Thüringen and has had poems featured in numerous anthologies and in the Atlanta Monthly.
First published in 3:AM Magazine: Tuesday, July 27th, 2010.
