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teen poem

Bruder, bin ich Feuer
meine Mutter twines mich die Roses, die mit Tau naß sind
ich muß sagen gute Nacht
wenn der Schleier von den Augen angehoben wird
ich singe Ihnen
fette schwarze Dollars in einem Wein-Faßraum
Bewegung Ihres Körpers ist wie Musik
das Swanbestehen

 



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