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fall poem

blau-schwarze nubian zupfende Orangen
ich hörte den Wind aller Tag
neben es gab nie einen Ton das Holz aber eins
wenig Gatter wurde schließlich erreicht
obwohl Lieberepine und Grundscheuern
süsses splendor
unter den Rauch und Nebel eines Dezembernachmittages
die einzelne zusammengeprgessene angehobene Faust und bereiten vor
hören Sie zum klingenden Meer
aus mir heraus unwürdig und unbekannt


 



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