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halloween poetry

und breakethbrot nicht mehr
unnachgiebige Vergangenheit des thou
Sonne trat unten von seinem goldenen Throne
die alten Songs
welches hält
oben auslösen, unten fallend
zu einigem die fetten Götter
Himmel, die sie waren, ashen und nüchtern
Sitzen in seinem Schalthebel, der Ihren Tee wartet
Kurzschluß und süsses und wir sind zum Ende von ihm gekommen

 



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