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fall poetry

es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
die hypocritic Tage
die Schiffe liegen in der Bucht
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
mein Sohn ist tot und ich bin gehender Vorhang
zum leidenschaftlichen Geliebten
warum die Sachen sind, die keinen Tod haben
es gibt eine Stunde des ruhigen Restes
wenn Nacht entlang den Straßen der Stadt treibt
ruhig mit reverance, im Awe
hören Sie den Regen?
ich sah die archangels in meinem Apfel-Baum gestern Abend

 



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