Sebastian Schloessingk


I know which side my bread is buttered,
it’s buttered by the sun.

Christus est natus ex Maria
Virgine. Gaudete.

‘Christ is born of the Virgin
Mary. Enjoy.’ Yes I am

in Seventh - arrondissement
of - Heaven. 7ème Heaven.

Except ‘For the rain, it wipeth
every day’. And the refrain

from a Baroque Aria
sounds out clear: ‘Rotten angels

through the skies’. Then came
the great sidelining, Also Ran

Zarathustra. Soon ‘Rubashov
rubbished his spectacles on his

sleeve’ (p.174). Denouement
Dyed Hair With A Vengeance.