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poem for dad

neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
erklären Sie mir
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
ein Leben auf der Ozeanwelle
von Fußboden zu Decke
hoch-getragenes Rennen
lassen Sie mich traurig sein
mit den meek, braunen Augen

 



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