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prose poetry

eine Feder des Stahls
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
da ich der Richtung des Todes geglaubt habe
herauf von den Süden am Bruch des Tages
ich bin der Wind, der wavers
die einzelne zusammengeprgessene angehobene Faust und bereiten vor
jenseits schauen

 



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