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pumpkin poem

Sie sind frei
Schriftsatz auf einer Fliegennacht
winged Schatten, die vorbei fegen
Bruder, bin ich Feuer
es gibt keine Menge, gleichwohl aufgepaßt und geneigt
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
sehen Sie, sie zurückgehen
behold ich, in meinem chiffon, in Gaze und in Filterstreifen
haben wir keine Schande?

 



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