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concrete poetry

gegangen vor uns
Tage endeared zu jedem MUSE
ich loathed Sie
meine Seele ist ein dunkles gepflogenes Feld
sie hat einen freien Raum, Wind-geschütztes loveliness
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
er war ein hohes junges oysterman
es gibt Gewinne für alle unsere Verluste
vor langer Zeit im jungen Moonlight
ihr schönes Haar
Vögel gegen den Aprilwind
durch die ausgedehnten schmerzende Brust der Masse
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
ich weiß nicht wo

 



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