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friend poem

ich liebe meine Stunde des Winds und des Lichtes
Hinausschieben, vainly kämpfend
könnten wir aber zu wissen
ich habe sie in der Nacht gehört
Gott
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
die langen resounding Marmorflure
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
voll von den Rissen
Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen

 



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