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thanksgiving poetry

ich sah mit geöffneten Augen
gebildet vom loveliness alleine
Tochter, thoukunst kommen zu sterben
unter den Bergen wandered ich
Stadt, die nicht eine Stadt ist
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
Welt, die unter meiner Hand ändert
wie ein blanker Mann ich gehen

 



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