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modern poetry

Kerzen, die seitlich in den Tomatedosen stürzen
lieben Sie mich schließlich oder, wenn Sie nicht werden
wir, die standen
ein Dichter, nachdem den Zaum seine Zunge entfernt habend
ich sah die Wolken unter den Hügeln
gerade als meine Finger auf diesen Schlüsseln
liebe Frau
Ginghamhund und die Kalikokatze
alter Wein zum Trinken
so verloren

 



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