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life poetry

meine Mutter unterrichtete mich daß jede Nacht
Sturm
häufig denke ich an die schöne Stadt
Bewegung Ihres Körpers ist wie Musik
ich liebe die alten melodious Lagen
alle innen und alle ohne mich
fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-Faßraum
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
unter meinem Fenster in einer Stadtstraße
dieses ist das Arsenal

 



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