the former cement worker

like fate


in convict stripes

sorting, gluing

shoe shops

wall without end

with the summer cluster

soap is

‘he’ll freeze’

the cold all year

in bed at the back


offspring, twelve

first the queer, now the reds

Franz says

good fortune to misfortune

this egg whisk

happiness, outcry

always the same sun


the Jews on Minx Street

asphalt doesn’t melt in winter