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thanksgiving poem

könnten wir aber zu wissen
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
ein Sturm fährt auf den Tide
wie wild, wie Hexe-wie sonderbares, das das Leben sein sollte
aber ich kann nicht Sie jetzt lesen
die Schwärzung rollt aufwärts
von Song und Traum für überhaupt gegangen

 



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